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OF  LIFE 


G.LOWES  DICKINSON 


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CHAUTAUQUA 
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THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 


THE  GREEK  VIEW 
OF  LIFE 


BY 


G.  LOWES  DICKINSON,  M.A. 


mm^im$. 


/ififec*!!);' 


EJ}e  CI}autauqua  i^ress 

CHAUTAUQUA,    NEW    YORK 
1909 


5021 


2>F77 


PREFACE 


The  following  pages  are  intended  to  serve  as  a  general 
introduction  to  Greek  literature  and  thought,  for  those, 
primarily,  who  do  not  know  Greek.  Whatever  opinions 
may  be  held  as  to  the  value  of  translations,  it  seems  clear 
that  it  is  only  by  their  means  that  the  majority  of  modern 
readers  can  attain  to  any  knowledge  of  Greek  culture ; 
and  as  I  believe  that  culture  to  be  still,  as  it  has  been 
in  the  past,  the  most  valuable  element  of  a  liberal  education, 
I  have  hoped  that  such  an  attempt  as  the  present  to  give, 
with  the  help  of  quotations  from  the  original  authors,  some 
general  idea  of  the  Greek  view  of  life,  will  not  be  regarded 
as  labour  thrown  away. 

It  has  been  essential  to  my  purpose  to  avoid,  as  far 
as  may  be,  all  controversial  matter ;  and  if  any  classical 
scholar  who  m.ay  come  across  this  volume  should  be 
inclined  to  complain  of  omissions  or  evasions,  I  would 
beg  him  to  remember  the  object  of  the  book  and  to 
judge  it  according  to  its  fitness  for  its  own  end. 

"The  Greek  View  of  Life,"  no  doubt,  is  a  question- 
begging  title,  but  I  believe  it  to  have  a  quite  intelligible 
meaning  ;  for  varied  and  manifold  as  the  phases  may  be 
that   are   presented   by   the   Greek    civilization,    they    do 


Vlli  PREFACE 

nevertheless  group  themselves  about  certain  main  ideas, 
to  be  distinguished  with  sufficient  clearness  from  those 
which  have  dominated  other  nations.  It  is  these  ideas 
that  I  have  endeavoured  to  bring  into  relief;  and  if  I 
have  failed,  the  blame,  I  submit,  must  be  ascribed  rather 
to  myself  than  to  the  nature  of  the  task  I  have  undertaken. 

From  permission  to  make  the  extracts  from  translations 
here  printed  my  best  thanks  are  due  to  the  following 
authors  and  publishers  : — Professor  Butcher,  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang,  Mr.  E.  D.  A.  Morshead,  Mr.  B.  B.  Rogers,  Dr. 
Verrall,  Mr.  A.  S.  Way,  Messrs.  George  Bell  and  Sons,  the 
Syndics  of  the  Cambridge  University  Press,  the  Delegates 
of  the  Clarendon  Press,  Oxford,  Messrs.  Macmillan  and 
Co.,  Mr.  John  Murray,  and  Messrs.  Sampson  Low,  Marston 
and  Co. — I  have  also  to  thank  the  Master  and  Fellows 
of  Balliol  College,  Oxford,  for  permission  to  quote  at 
considerable  length  from  the  late  Professor  Jowett's  trans- 
lations of  Plato  and  Thucydides. 

Appended  is  a  list  of  the  translations  from  which  I  have 
quoted. 


LIST  OF  TRANSLATIONS  USED 


^SCHYLUS    (B.C.    525—456).     "The    House    of  Atreus" 

^i.E.    the    "Agamemnon,"    "Choephorae   and    "Eumeni- 

des  "),  translated  by  E.  D.  A.  Morshead  (Warren  and  Sons). 

The  "Eumenides,"  translated  by  Dr.  Verrall  (Cambridge, 

1885). 

ARISTOPHANES  (C.  B.C.  444—380).  "The  Acharnians, 
the  Knights,  and  the  Birds,"  translated  by  John  Hookham 
Frere  (Morley's  Universal  Library,  Routledge). 

[Also    the    "Frogs"    and   the    "Peace"    in   his   Collected 
Works,  (Pickering)]. 

The  "Clouds,"  the  "Lysistrata"  ["Women  in  Revolt,"] 
the  "Peace,"  and  the  "Wasps,"  translated  by  B.  B.  Rogers 

ARISTOTLE  (B.C.  384—322).  The  "Ethics,"  the  "Politics," 
and  the  "Rhetoric,"  translated  by  J.  E.  C.  Welldon  (Mac- 
millan  &  Co.). 

DEMOSTHENES  (B.C.  385—322).  "Orations,"  translated  by 
C.  R.  Kennedy  (Bell). 

EURIPIDES  (B.C.  480—406).  "Tragedies,"  translated  by 
A.  S.  Way  (Macmillan  &  Co.). 


%  LIST  OF  TRANSLATIONS  USED 

HERODOTUS    (B.C.    484—       ).      "The    History,"    translated 

by  S.  R.  Rawlinson  (Murray). 
HOMER.     The  "Iliad,"  translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers; 

the  "Odyssey,"  translated  by  Butcher  &  Lang  (Macmillan). 
PINDAR   (B.C.    522—442).     "Odes,"    translated   by   E.   Myers 

(Macmillan  &  Co.). 
PLATO     (B.C.     430—347).       The    "Dialogues,"    translated    by 

B.  JOWETT  (Clarendon  Press). 

"The    Republic,"    translated    by  Davies  and  Vaughan 

(Macmillan  &  Co.). 
PLUTARCH.        "Lives,"      Dryden's     translation,      edited     by 

A.  Clough  (Sampson  Low,  Marston  &  Co.). 

son  lOCLES  (B.C.  496—406).    Edited  and  Translated  by  Dr.  Jebb 

(Cambridge  University  Press). 
THUCYDIDES     (B.C.     471—        ),     edited     aud     translated     by 

B.  JowETT  (Clarendon  Press). 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Chapter  I. — The  Greek  View  of  Religion i 

1.  Introductory I 

2.  Greek  Religion  an  Interpretation  of  Nature 2 

3.  Greek  Religion  an  Interpretation  of  the  Human  Passions.    .  8 

4.  Greek  Religion  the  Foundation  of  Society 9 

5.  Religious  Festivals 12 

6.  The    Greek    Conception    of   the  Relation  of  Man  to  the 

Gods 17 

7.  Divination,  Omens,  Oracles 19 

8.  Sacrifice  and  Atonement 22 

9.  Guilt  and  Punishment 24 

10.  Mysticism 28 

11.  The  Greek  View  of  Death  and  a  Future  Life 32 

12.  Critical  and  Sceptical  Opinion  in  Greece 40 

13.  Ethical  Criticism 44 

14.  Transition  to  Monotheism 49 

15.  Metaphysical  Criticism 52 

16.  Metaphysical  reconstruction — Plato 58 

17.  Summary 61 

Chapter  II. — The  Greek  View  of  the  State   ....  65 

1.  The  Greek  State  a  "City" 65 

2.  The  Relation  of  the  State  to  the  Citizen 66 

3.  The  Greek  View  of  Law 70 

4.  Artisans  and  Slaves 7^ 


xu  CONTENTS 

Pago 

5.  The  Greek  State  primarily  Military,  not  Industrial  ...  77 

6.  Forms  of  Government  in  the  Greek  State 80 

7.  Faction  and  Anarchy 81 

8.  Property  and  the  Communistic  Ideal 86 

9.  Sparta 95 

10.  Athens 103 

11.  Sceptical  Criticism  of  the  Basis  of  the  State.    .....  117 

12.  Summary 122 

Chapter  III. — The  Greek  View  of  the  Individual.    .  126 

1.  The  Greek  View  of  Manual  Labour  and  Trade  ....  126 

2.  Appreciation  of  External  Goods 128 

3.  Appreciation  of  Physical  Qualities 130 

4.  Greek  Athletics 13 1 

5.  Greek  Ethics — Identification   of  the  -Esthetic  and  Ethical 

Points  of  View 134 

6.  The  Greek  View  of  Pleasure 142 

7.  Illustrations. — Ischomachus  ;  Socrates 144 

8.  The  Greek  View  of  Woman 154 

9.  Protests  against  the  Common  View  of  Woman    ....  164 

10.  Friendship 167 

11.  Summary 183 

Chapter  IV. — The  Greek  View  of  Art 187 

1.     Greek  Art  an  Expression  of  National  Life 187 

2 

3 

4 

5 
6 


Identification  of  the  Esthetic  and  Ethical  points  of  View  190 

Sculpture  and  Painting 194 

Music  and  the  Dance 199 

Poetry 206 

Tragedy , 209 

7.  Comedy 223 

8.  Summary 225 

Chapter  V. — Conclusion 227 


THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 


CHAPTER  I 
THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  RELIGION 

^  /.     Introductory. 

In  approaching  the  subject  of  the  religion  of  the  Greeks 
it  is  necessary  to  dismiss  at  the  outset  many  of  the 
associations  which  we  are  naturally  inclined  to  connect 
with  that  word.  What  we  commonly  have  in  our  mind 
when  we  speak  of  religion  is  a  definite  set  of  doctrines^ 
of  a  more  or  less  metaphysical  character,  formulated  in  a 
creed  and  supported  by  an  organisation  distinct  from  the 
state.  And  the  first  thing  we  have  to  learn  about  the 
religion  of  the  Greeks  is  that  it  included  nothing  of  the 
kind.  There  was  no  church,  there  was  no  creed,  there 
were  no  articles;  there  was  no  doctrine  even,  unless  we 
are  so  to  call  a  chaos  of  legends  orally  handed  down  and 
in  continual  process  of  transformation  by  the  poets. 
Priests  there  were,  but  they  were  merely  public  oflBcials, 
appointed  to  perform  certain  religious  rites.  The  distinction 
between  cleric  and  layman,  as  we  know  it,  did  not  exist; 
the  distinction  between  poetry  and  dogma  did  not  exist; 
and  whatever  the  religion  of  the  Greeks  may  have  been, 


2  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

one  thing  at  any  rate  is  clear,  that  it  was  something  very 
different  from  all  that  we  are  in  the  habit  of  associating 
with  the  word. 

What  then  was  it?  It  is  easy  to  reply  that  it  wajthe 
worship  of  tliose  gods— of  Zeus,  Apollo,  Athene,  a^(l  the 
rest — with  whose  names  and  histories  every  one  is  familiar. 
But  the  difhculty  is  to  realise  what  was  implied  in  the 
worship  of  these  gods;  to  understand  that  the  mythology 
which  we  regard  merely  as  a  collection  of  fables  was  to 
the  Greeks  actually  true;  or  at  least  that  to  nine  Greeks 
out  of  ten  it  would  never  occur  that  it  might  be  false, 
might  be,  as  we  say,  mere  stories.  So  that  though  no 
doubt  the  histories  of  the  gods  were  in  part  the  inventions 
of  the  poets,  yet  the  poets  would  conceive  themselves 
to  be  merely  putting  into  form  what  they  and  every  OAO 
believed  to  be  essentially  true. 

But  such  a  belief  implies  a  fundamental  distinction 
between  the  conception,  or  rather,  perhaps,  the  feeling  of 
the  Greeks  about  the  world,  and  our  own.  And  it  is 
this  feeling  that  we  want  to  understand  when  we  ask 
ourselves  the  question,  what  did  a  belief  in  the  gods 
really  mean  to  the  ancient  Greeks?  To  answer  it  fully 
and  satisfactorily  is  perhaps  impossible.  But  some  attempt 
must  be  made;  and  it  may  help  us  in  our  quest  if  we 
endeavour  to  imagine  the  kind  of  questionings  and  doubts 
which  the  conception  of  the  gods  would  set  at  rest. 

§  2,     Greek  Religion  an  Interpretation  of 
Nature, 

When  we  try  to  conceive  the  state  of  mind  of  primitive 
man  the  first  thing  that  occurs  to  us  is  the  bewilderment 
and    terror   he    must    have    felt    in    the  presence   of  the 


GREEK  RELIGION  AN  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE  3 

powers  of  nature.  Naked,  houseless,  weaponless,  he  is 
at  the  mercy,  every  hour,  of  this  immense  and  incal- 
culable Something  so  alien  and  so  hostile  to  himself.  As 
fire  it  bums,  as  water  it  drowns,  as  tempest  it  harries 
and  destroys ;  benignant  it  may  be  at  times,  in  warm 
sunshine  and  calm,  but  the  kindness  is  brief  and  treacherous. 
Anyhow,  whatever  its  mood,  it  has  to  be  met  and  dealt 
with.  By  its  help,  or,  if  not,  in  the  teeth  of  its  resistance, 
every  step  in  advance  must  be  won;  every  hour,  every 
minute,  it  is  there  to  be  reckoned  with.  What  is  it  then, 
this  persistent,  obscure,  unnameable  Thing?  What  is  it? 
The  question  haunts  the  mind;  it  will  not  be  put  aside; 
and  the  Greek  at  last,  Hke  other  men  under  similar  con- 
ditions, only  with  a  lucidity  and  precision  peculiar  to 
himself,  makes  the  reply,  "it  is  something  like  myself." 
Every  power  of  nature  he  presumes  to  be  a  spiritual 
being,  impersonating  the  sky  as  Zeus,  the  earth  as  Deme- 
ter,  the  sea  as  Poseidon;  from  generation  to  generation 
under  his  shaping  hands,  the  figures  multiply  and 
define  themselves;  character  and  story  crystallise  about 
what  at  first  were  little  more  than  names ;  till  at  last, 
from  the  womb  of  the  dark  enigma  that  haunted  him 
in  the  beginning,  there  emerges  into  the  charmed  light 
of  a  world  of  ideal  grace  a  pantheon  of  fair  and 
concrete  personalities.  Nature  has  become  a  company  of 
spirits;  every  cave  and  fountain  is  haunted  by  a  nymph; 
in  the  ocean  dwell  the  Nereids,  in  the  mountain  the 
Oread,  the  Dryad  in  the  wood ;  and  everywhere,  in  groves 
and  marshes,  on  the  pastures  or  the  rocky  heights,  floating 
in  the  current  of  the  streams  or  traversing  untrodden  snows, 
in  the  day  at  the  chase  and  as  evening  closes  in  solitude 
fingering   his   flute,   seen   and   heard  by  shepherds,  alone 


4  THE   GREEK    VIEW    OF  LIFE 

or  with  his  dancing  train,  is  to  be  met  the  homed  and 
goat-footed,  the  sunny-smiling  Pan. 

Thus  conceived,  the  world  has  become  less  terrible  be- 
cause more  familiar.  All  that  was  incomprehensible,  all 
^hat  was  obscure  and  dark,  has  now  been  seized  and 
bodied  forth  in  form,  so  that  everywhere  man  is  confronted 
no  longer  with  blind  and  unintelligible  force,  but  with 
spiritual  beings  moved  by  like  passions  with  himself.  The 
gods,  it  is  true,  were  capricious  and  often  hostile  to  his 
good,  but  at  least  they  had  a  nature  akin  to  his ;  if  they 
were  angry,  they  might  be  propitiated;  if  they  were  jealous, 
they  might  be  appeased;  the  enmity  of  one  might  be 
compensated  by  the  friendship  of  another;  dealings  with 
them,  after  all,  were  not  so  unlike  dealings  with  men,  and 
at  the  worst  there  was  always  a  chance  for  courage, 
patience  and  wit. 

Man,  in  short,  by  his  religion  has  been  made  at  home  in  the 
world ;  and  that  is  the  first  point  to  seize  upon.  To  drive  it 
home,  let  us  take  an  illustration  from  the  story  of  Odysseus. 

Odysseus,  it  will  be  remembered,  after  the  sack  of  Troy, 
for  ten  years  was  a  wanderer  on  the  seas,  by  tempest,  en- 
chantment, and  every  kind  of  danger  detained,  as  it  seemed, 
beyond  hope  of  return  from  the  wife  and  home  he  had 
left  in  Ithaca.  The  situation  is  forlorn  enough.  Yet, 
somehow  or  other,  beauty  in  the  story  predominates  over 
terror.  And  this,  in  part  at  least,  because  the  powers  with 
which  Odysseus  has  to  do,  are  not  mere  forces  of  nature, 
blind  and  indifferent,  but  spiritual  beings  who  take  an 
interest,  for  or  against,  in  his  fate.  The  whole  stoiy 
becomes  familiar,  and,  if  one  may  say  so,  comfortable,  by 
the  fact  that  it  is  conducted  under  the  control  and  direction 
of  the  gods.     Listen,  for  example,  to  the  Homeric  account 


GREEK  RELIGION  AN  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE   5 

of  the  onset  of  a  storm,  and  observe  how  it  sets  one  at 
ease  with  the  elements: 

**  Now  the  lord,  the  shaker  of  the  earth,  on  his  way  from 
the  Ethiopians,  espied  Odysseus  afar  off  from  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Solymi :  even  thence  he  saw  him  as  he  sailed 
over  the  deep ;  and  he  was  yet  more  angered  in  spirit,  and 
wagging  his  head  he  communed  with  his  own  heart.  *  Lo 
now,  it  must  be  that  the  gods  at  the  last  have  changed 
their  purpose  concernmg  Odysseus,  while  I  was  away  among 
the  Ethiopians.  And  now  he  is  nigh  to  the  Phaeacian 
land,  where  it  is  so  ordained  that  he  escape  the  great 
issues  of  the  woe  which  hath  come  upon  him.  But  me- 
thinks,  that  even  yet  I  will  drive  him  far  enough  in  the 
path  of  suffering.' 

"  With  that  he  gathered  the  clouds  and  troubled  the  wa- 
ters of  the  deep,  grasping  his  trident  in  his  hands ;  and  he 
roused  all  storms  of  all  manner  of  winds,  and  shrouded 
in  clouds  the  land  and  sea:  and  down  sped  night  from 
heaven.  The  East  Wind  and  the  South  Wind  clashed, 
and  the  stonny  West,  and  the  North,  that  is  bom  in  the 
bright  air,  rolling  onward  a  great  wave."^ 

The  position  of  the  hero  is  terrible,  it  is  true,  but  not 
with  the  terror  of  despair ;  for  as  it  is  a  god  that  wrecked 
him,  it  may  also  be  a  god  that  will  save.  If  Poseidon  is 
his  enemy,  Athene,  he  knows,  is  his  friend;  and  all  lies, 
after  all,  in  the  hands,  or,  as  the  Greeks  said,  "  on  the 
knees, "  not  of  a  blind  destiny,  but  of  beings  accessible  to 
prayer. 

Let  us  take  another  passage  from  Homer  to  illustrate 
the  same  point.     It  is  the  place  where  Achilles  is  endeavour- 

*Odyss.  V.  282. — Translated  by  Butcher  and  Lang. 

2 


6  THE    GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

ing  to  light  the  funeral  p>Te  of  Patroclus,  but  because 
there  is  no  wind  the  fire  will  not  catch.  What  is  he  to 
do?  What  can  he  do?  Nothing,  say  we,  but  wait  till 
the  wind  comes.  But  to  the  Greek  the  winds  are  persons, 
not  elements;  Achilles  has  only  to  call  and  to  promise, 
and  they  will  listen  to  his  voice.  And  so,  we  are  told, 
"fleet-footed  noble  Achilles  had  a  further  thought:  standing 
aside  from  the  pyre  he  prayed  to  the  two  winds  of  North 
and  West,  and  promised  them  fair  offerings,  and  pouring 
large  libations  from  a  golden  cup  besought  them  to  come, 
that  the  corpses  might  blaze  up  speedily  in  the  fire,  and 
the  wood  make  haste  to  be  enkindled.  Then  Iris,  when 
she  heard  his  prayer,  went  swiftly  with  the  message  to 
the  Winds.  They  within  the  house  of  the  gusty  West 
Wind  were  feasting  all  together  at  meat,  when  Iris  sped 
thither,  and  halted  on  the  threshold  of  stone.  And  when 
they  saw  her  with  their  eyes,  they  sprung  up  and  called 
to  her  every  one  to  sit  by  him.  But  she  refused  to  sit, 
and  spake  her  word :  '  No  seat  for  me ;  I  must  go  back 
to  the  streams  of  Ocean,  to  the  Ethiopians'  land  where 
they  sacrifice  hecatombs  to  the  immortal  gods,  that  I  too 
may  feast  at  their  rites.  But  Achilles  is  praying  the  North 
Wind  and  the  loud  Wegt  to  come,  and  promising  them 
fair  offerings,  that  ye  may  make  the  pyre  be  kindled 
whereon  lieth  Patroclos,  for  whom  all  the  Achaians  are 
making  moan.' 

"  She  having  thus  said  departed,  and  they  arose  with  a 
mighty  sound,  rolling  the  clouds  before  them.  And  swiftly 
they  came  blowing  over  the  sea,  and  the  wave  rose  beneath 
their  shrill  blast;  and  they  came  to  deep-soiled  Troy,  and 
fell  upon  the  pile,  and  loudly  roared  the  mighty  fire.  So 
all  night  drave  they  the  flame  of  the  pyre  together,  blow- 


GREEK  RELIGION  AN  iNtERPREtAtlON  OK  NATURE   7 

ing  shrill ;  and  all  night  fleet  Achilles,  holding  a  two-handled 
cup,  drew  wine  from  a  golden  bowl,  and  poured  it  forth 
and  drenched  the  earth,  calling  upon  the  spirit  of  hapless 
Patroclos.  As  a  father  waileth  when  he  burneth  the  bones 
of  his  son,  new-married,  whose  death  is  woe  to  his  hapless 
parents,  so  wailed  Achilles  as  he  burnt  the  bones  of  his 
comrade,  going  heavily  round  the  burning  pile,  with  many 
moans. 

"  But  at  the  hour  when  the  Morning  Star  goeth  forth 
to  herald  light  upon  the  earth,  the  star  that  saffron-mantled 
Dawn  Cometh  after,  and  spreadeth  over  the  salt  sea,  then 
grew  the  burning  faint,  and  the  flame  died  down.  And 
the  Winds  went  back  again  to  betake  them  home  over 
the  Thracian  main,  and  it  roared  with  a  violent  swell. 
Then  the  son  of  Peleus  turned  away  from  the  burning  and 
lay  down  wearied,  and  sweet  sleep  leapt  on  him."* 

The  exquisite  beauty  of  this  passage,  even  in  transla- 
tion, will  escape  no  lover  of  poetry.  And  it  is  a  beauty 
which  depends  on  the  character  of  the  Greek  religion; 
on  the  fact  that  all  that  is  unintelligible  in  the  world,  all 
that  is  alien  to  man,  has  been  drawn,  as  it  were,  from  its 
dark  retreat,  clothed  in  radiant  form,  and  presented  to  the 
mind  as  a  glorified  image  of  itself.  Every  phenomenon 
of  nature,  night  and  "  rosy-fingered  "  dawn,  earth  and  sun, 
winds,  rivers,  and  seas,  sleep  and  death,— all  have  been 
transformed  into  divine  and  conscious  agents,  to  be 
propitiated  by  prayer,  interpreted  by  divination,  and  com- 
prehended by  passions  and  desires  identical  with  those 
which  stir  and  control  mankind. 

'Iliad  xxm.  p.   193. — Translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers. 


8  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

§  J,     Greek  Religion  an  Interpretation  of  the 
Human  Passions. 

And  as  with  the  external  world,  so  with  the  world 
within.  The  powers  of  nature  were  not  the  only  ones 
felt  by  man  to  be  different  from  and  alien  to  himself; 
there  were  others,  equally  strange,  dwelling  in  his  own 
heart,  which,  though  in  a  sense  they  were  part  of  him, 
yet  he  felt  to  be  not  himself,  which  came  upon  him  and 
possessed  him  without  his  choice  and  against  his  will. 
With  these  too  he  felt  the  need  to  make  himself  at  home, 
and  these  too,  to  satisfy  his  need,  he  shaped  into  creatures 
like  himself.  To  the  whole  range  of  his  inner  experience  he 
gave  definition  and  hfe,  presenting  it  to  himself  in  a  series 
of  spiritual  forms.  In  Aphrodite,  mother  of  Eros,  he  incar- 
nated the  passion  of  love,  placing  in  her  broidered  girdle 
"  love  and  desire  of  loving  converse  that  steals  the  wits 
even  of  the  wise";  in  Ares  he  embodied  the  lust  of  war; 
in  Athene,  wisdom;  in  Apollo,  music  and  the  arts.  The 
pangs  of  guilt  took  shape  in  the  conception  of  avenging 
Furies ;  and  the  very  prayers  of  the  worshipper  sped  from 
him  in  human  form,  wrinkled  and  blear-eyed,  with  halting 
pace,  in  the  rear  of  punishment.  Thus  the  very  self  of 
man  he  set  outside  himself;  the  powers,  so  intimate,  and 
yet  so  strange,  that  swayed  him  from  within  he  made 
familiar  by  making  them  distinct;  converted  their  shapeless 
terror  into  the  beauty  of  visible  form;  and  by  merely 
presenting  them  thus  to  himself  in  a  guise  that  was  imme- 
diately understood,  set  aside,  if  he  could  not  answer,  the 
haunting  question  of  their  origin  and  end. 

Here  then  is  at  least  a  partial  reply  to  our  question 
as   to  the  effect  of  a  belief  in  the  gods  on  the  feeling  of 


GREEK   RETJGION  THE  FOUNDATION  OF   SOCIETY     9 

the  Greek.  To  repeat  the  phrase  once  more,  it  made 
him  at  home  in  the  world.  The  mysterious  powers  that 
controlled  him  it  converted  into  beings  like  himself;  and 
so  gave  him  heart  and  breathing-space,  shut  in,  as  it  were, 
from  the  abyss  by  this  shining  host  of  fair  and  familiar 
forms,  to  turn  to  the  interests  and  claims  of  the  passing 
hour  an  attention  undistracted  by  doubt  and  fear. 

§  ^.     Greek  Religion  the  Foitndaiton  of  Society, 

But  this  relation  to  the  world  of  nature  is  only  one  side 
of  man's  life;  more  prominent  and  more  important,  at  a 
later  stage  of  his  development,  is  his  relation  to  society; 
and  here  too  m  Greek  civilization  a  great  part  was  played 
by  religion.  For  the  Greek  gods,  we  must  remember, 
were  not  purely  spiritual  powers,  to  be  known  and 
approached  only  in  the  heart  by  prayer.  They  were 
beings  in  human  form,  like,  though  superior  to  ourselves, 
who  passed  a  great  part  of  their  history  on  earth,  inter- 
vened in  the  affairs  of  men,  furthered  or  thwarted  their 
undertakings,  begat  among  them  sons  and  daughters,  and 
followed,  from  generation  to  generation,  the  fortunes  of 
their  children's  children.  Between  them  and  mankind 
there  was  no  impassable  gulf;  from  Heracles  the  son  of 
Zeus  was  descended  the  Dorian  race;  the  lonians  from 
Ion,  son  of  Apollo;  every  family,  every  tribe  traced  back 
its  origin  to  a  "  hero  ",  and  these  "  heroes  "  were  children 
of  the  gods,  and  deities  themselves.  Thus  were  the  gods, 
in  the  most  literal  sense,  the  founders  of  society;  from 
them  was  derived,  even  physically,  the  unit  of  the  family 
and  the  race;  and  the  whole  social  structure  raised  upon 
that  natural  basis  was  necessarily  penetrated  through  and 
through  by  the  spirit  of  religion. 


lO  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

We  must  not  therefore  be  misled  by  the  fact  that  there 
was  no  church  in  the  Greek  state  to  the  idea  that  the 
state  recognised  no  rehgion;  on  the  contrary,  reh'gion  was 
so  essential  to  the  state,  so  bound  up  with  its  whole 
structure,  in  general  and  in  detail,  that  the  very  conception 
of  a  separation  between  the  powers  was  impossible.  If 
tlicre  was  no  separate  church,  in  our  sense  of  the  term, 
as  an  independent  organism  within  the  state,  it  was  because 
the  state,  in  one  of  its  aspects,  was  itself  a  church,  and 
derived  its  sanction,  both  as  a  whole  and  in  its  parts, 
from  the  same  gods  who  controlled  the  physical  world. 
Not  only  the  community  as  a  whole  but  all  its  separate 
minor  organs  were  under  the  protection  of  patron  deities. 
The  family  centred  in  the  hearth,  where  the  father,  in  his 
capacity  of  priest,  offered  sacrifice  and  prayer  to  the 
ancestors  of  the  house;  the  various  corporations  into  which 
families  were  grouped,  the  local  divisions  for  the  purpose 
of  taxation,  elections,  and  the  like,  derived  a  spiritual 
unity  from  the  worship  of  a  common  god;  and  finally  the 
all-embracing  totality  of  the  state  itself  was  explained  and 
justified  to  all  its  members  by  the  cult  of  the  special 
protecting  deity  to  whom  its  origin  and  prosperous  con- 
tinuance were  due.  The  sailor  who  saw,  on  turning  the 
point  of  Sunium,  the  tip  of  the  spear  of  Athene  glittering 
on  the  Acropolis,  beheld  in  a  type  the  spiritual  form  of 
the  state ;  Athene  and  Athens  were  but  two  aspects  of  the 
same  thing ;  and  the  statue  of  the  goddess  of  wisdom 
dominating  the  city  of  the  arts  may  serve  to  sum  up  for 
us  the  ideal  of  that  marvellous  corporate  life  where  there 
was  no  ecclesiastical  religion  only  because  there  was  no 
secular  state. 

Regarded  from  this  point  of  view,  we  may  say  that  the 


GREEK  RELIGION  THE  FOUNDATION  OF  SOCIETY    1 1 

religion  of  the  Greeks  was  the  spiritual  side  of  their  po- 
litical life.  And  we  must  add  that  in  one  respect  their 
religion  pointed  the  way  to  a  higher  political  achievement 
than  they  were  ever  able  to  realise  in  fact.  One  fatal 
defect  of  the  Greek  civilisation,  as  is  familiar  to  students 
of  their  history,  was  the  failure  of  the  various  independent 
city  states  to  coalesce  into  a  single  harmonious  whole. 
But  the  tendency  of  religion  was  to  obviate  this  defect. 
We  find,  for  example,  that  at  one  time  or  another  federa- 
tions of  states  were  formed  to  support  in  common  the  cult 
of  some  god;  and  one  cult  in  particular  there  was — that 
of  the  Delphian  Apollo — whose  influence  on  political  no 
less  than  on  religious  life  was  felt  as  far  as  and  even 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  Greek  race.  No  colony  could 
be  founded,  no  war  hazarded,  no  peace  confirmed,  with- 
out the  advice  and  approval  of  the  god— whose  cult  was 
thus  at  once  a  religious  centre  for  the  whole  of  Greece, 
and  a  forecast  of  a  political  unity  that  should  co-ordinate 
into  a  whole  her  chaos  of  conflicting  states. 

The  religion  of  the  Greeks  being  thus,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  presupposition  and  bond  of  their  political  life,  we  find 
its  sanction  extended  at  every  point  to  custom  and  law. 
The  persons  of  heralds,  for  example,  were  held  to  be  under 
divine  protection;  treaties  between  states  and  contracts 
between  individuals  were  confirmed  by  oath ;  the  vengeance 
of  the  gods  was  invoked  upon  infringers  of  the  law ;  nation- 
al assemblies  and  military  expeditions  were  inaugurated 
by  public  prayers;  the  whole  of  corporate  hfe,  in  short, 
social  and  political,  was  so  embraced  and  bathed  in  an 
idealising  element  of  ritual  that  the  secular  and  religious 
aspects  of  the  sta*:z  must  have  been  as  inseparable  to  a 
Greek  in  idea  as  vr,  know  them  to  have  been  in  constitution. 


12  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

§  5.     Religious  Festivals, 

For  it  was  in  ritual  and  art,  not  in  propositions,  that 
the  Greek  religion  expressed  itself;  and  in  this  respect 
it  was  closer  to  the  Roman  Catholic  than  to  the  Protestant 
branch  of  the  Christian  faith.  The  plastic  genius  of  the 
race,  that  passion  to  embody  ideas  in  form,  which  was  at 
the  root,  as  we  saw,  of  their  whole  religious  outlook,  drove 
them  to  enact  for  their  own  delight,  in  the  most  beautiful 
and  telling  forms,  the  whole  conception  they  had  framed 
of  the  world  and  of  themselves.  The  changes  of  the 
seasons,  with  the  toil  they  exact  and  the  gifts  they  bring, 
the  powers  of  generation  and  destruction,  the  bounty  or 
the  rigours  of  the  earth;  and  on  the  other  hand,  the 
order  and  operations  of  social  phenomena,  the  divisions 
of  age  and  sex,  of  function  and  of  rank  in  the  state — all 
these  took  shape  and  came,  as  it  were,  to  self-conscious- 
ness in  a  magnificent  series  of  publicly  ordered ///^j.  So 
numerous  were  these  and  so  diverse  in  their  character 
that  it  would  be  impossible,  even  if  it  were  desirable  in 
this  place,  to  give  any  general  account  of  them.  Our 
purpose  will  be  better  served  by  a  description  of  two, 
selected  from  the  calendar  of  Athens,  and  typical,  the  one 
of  the  relations  of  man  to  nature,  the  other  of  his  relation 
to  the  state.  The  festivals  we  have  chosen  are  those 
known  as  the  **  Anthesteria  "^  and  the  "  Panathenasa." 

The  Anthesteria  was  held  at  that  season  of  the  year 
when,  as  Pindar  sings  in  an  ode  composed  to  be  sung 
upon  the  occasion,  "  tho  chamber  of  the  Hours  is  opened 
and   the  blossoms   hear  the  voice  of  the  fragrant  spring; 

*  This  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  the  "  Anthesteria "  is  not 
accepted  by  modern  scholars.  It  is  not,  however,  for  typographical 
reasons,  convenient  to  remove  it  from  the  text,  and  the  error  is  of  no 
importance  for  the  purpose  of  this  book. 


RELIGIOUS    FESTIVALS  1 3 

when  violet  clusters  are  flung  on  the  lap  of  earth,  and 
chaplets  of  roses  braided  in  the  hair ;  when  the  sound  of 
the  flute  is  heard  and  choirs  chanting  hymns  to  Semele." 
On  the  natural  side  the  festival  records  the  coming  of 
spring  and  the  fermenting  of  last  year's  wine;  on  the  spiri- 
tual, its  centre  is  Dionysus,  who  not  only  was  the  god  of 
wine,  but,  according  to  another  legend,  symbolised  in  his 
fate  the  death  of  the  year  in  winter  and  its  rebirth  at  spring. 
The  ceremonies  open  with  a  scene  of  abandoned  jollity ; 
servants  and  slaves  are  invited  to  share  in  the  universal 
revel;  the  school  holidays  begin;  and  all  the  place  is  alive 
with  the  bustle  and  fun  of  a  great  fair.  Bargaining,  peep- 
shows,  conjuring,  and  the  like  fill  up  the  hours  of  the 
day ;  and  towards  evening  the  holiday-makers  assemble  gar- 
landed and  crowned  in  preparation  for  the  great  procession. 
The  procession  takes  place  by  torch-light;  the  statue  of  Dio- 
nysus leads  the  way,  and  the  revellers  follow  and  swarm 
about  him,  in  carriages  or  on  foot,  costumed  as  Hours  or 
Nymphs  or  Bacchae  in  the  train  of  the  god  of  wine.  The 
destination  is  the  temple  of  the  god  and  there  sacrifice 
is  performed  with  the  usual  accompaniment  of  song  and 
dance;  the  whole  closing  with  a  banquet  and  a  drinking 
contest,  similar  to  those  in  vogue  among  the  German 
students.     Aristophanes   has  described  the  scene  for  us— 

"  Couches,  tables, 
Cushions  and  coverlets  for  mattresses, 
Dancing  and  singing-girls  for  mistresses, 
Plum  cake  and  plain,  comfits  and  caraways. 
Confectionery,  fruits  preserved  and  fresh, 
Relishes  of  all  sorts,  hot  things  and  bitter, 
Savouries  and  sweets,  broiled  biscuits  and  what  not ; 
Flowers  and  perfumes,  and  garlands,  everything."^ 

*  Aristoph.  Ach.   1090. — Frere's  translation. 


14  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

and  in  the  midst  of  this  the  signal  given  by  the  trumpet, 
the  simultaneous  draught  of  wine,  and  the  prize  adjudged 
to  the  man  who  is  the  first  to  empty  his  cup. 

Thus  ends  the  first  phase  of  the  festival.  So  far  all  has  been 
mirth  and  revelry;  but  now  comes  a  sudden  change  of  tone. 
Dionysus,  god  of  wine  though  he  be,  has  also  his  tragic 
aspect;  of  him  too  there  is  recorded  a  "  descent  into  hell"; 
and  to  the  glad  celebration  of  the  renewal  of  life  in  spring 
succeeds  a  feast  in  honour  of  the  dead.  The  ghosts,  it 
is  supposed,  come  forth  to  the  upper  air;  every  door-post 
is  smeared  with  pitch  to  keep  off  the  wandering  shades; 
and  every  family  sacrifices  to  its  own  departed.  Nor  are 
the  arts  forgotten;  a  musical  festival  is  held,  and  com- 
peting choirs  sing  and  dance  in  honour  of  the  god. 

Such,  so  far  as  our  biief  and  imperfect  records  enable 
us  to  trace  it,  was  the  ritual  of  a  typical  Greek  festival. 
With  the  many  questions  that  might  be  raised  as  to  its 
origin  and  development  we  need  not  concern  ourselves  at 
present;  what  we  have  to  note  is  the  broad  fact,  character- 
istic of  the  genius  of  the  Greeks,  that  they  have  taken  the 
natural  emotions  excited  by  the  birth  of  spring,  and  by 
connecting  them  with  the  worship  of  Dionysus  have  given 
them  expression  and  form;  so  that  what  in  its  origin  was 
a  mere  burst  of  primitive  animal  spirits  is  transmuted  into 
a  complex  and  beautiful  work  of  art,  the  secret  springs 
and  fountains  of  physical  Hfe  flowing  into  the  forms  of  a 
spiritual  symbol.  It  is  this  that  is  the  real  meaning  of  all 
ceremonial,  and  this  that  the  Greeks  better  than  any  other 
people  understood.  Their  religion,  one  may  almost  say, 
consisted  in  ritual;  and  to  attempt  to  divide  the  inner 
from  the  outer  would  be  to  falsify  from  the  beginning  its 
distinctive  character. 


RELIGIOUS    FESTIVALS  1 5 

Let  us  pass  to  our  second  illustration,  the  great  city- 
festival  of  Athens.  In  the  Anthestcria  it  was  a  moment 
of  nature  that  was  seized  and  idealized;  here,  in  the 
Panathencea,  it  is  the  forms  of  social  life,  its  distinctions 
within  its  embracing  unity,  that  are  set  forth  in  their  inter- 
dependence as  functions  of  a  spiritual  life.  In  this  great 
national  fete,  held  every  four  years,  all  the  higher  activities 
of  Athenian  life  were  ideally  displayed — contests  of  song, 
of  lyre  and  of  flute,  foot  and  horse  races,  wrestling,  box- 
ing, and  the  like,  military  evolutions  of  infantry  and  horse, 
pyrrhic  dances  symbolic  of  attack  and  defence  in  war, 
mystic  chants  of  women  and  choruses  of  youths — the  whole 
concentring  and  discharging  itself  in  that  great  processional 
act  in  which,  as  it  were,  the  material  forms  of  society  be- 
came transparent,  and  the  Whole  moved  on,  illumined  and 
visibly  sustained  by  the  spiritual  soul  of  which  it  was  the 
complete  and  harmonious  embodiment.  Of  this  procession 
we  have  still  in  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  a  marble  tran- 
script. There  we  may  see  the  hfe  of  ancient  Athens  moving 
in  stone,  from  the  first  mounting  of  their  horses  by  iso- 
lated youths,  like  the  slow  and  dropping  prelude  of  a  sym- 
phony, on  to  the  thronged  and  trampling  ranks  of  cavalry, 
past  the  antique  chariots  reminiscent  of  Homeric  war, 
and  the  marching  band  of  flutes  and  zithers,  by  lines  of 
men  and  maidens  bearing  sacrificial  urns,  by  the  garlanded 
sheep  and  oxen  destined  for  sacrifice,  to  where,  on  turning 
the  corner  that  leads  to  the  eastern  front,  we  find  ourselves 
in  the  presence  of  the  Olympian  gods  themselves,  enthroned 
to  receive  the  offering  of  a  people's  life.  And  if  to  this 
marble  representation  we  add  the  colour  it  lacks,  the  gold 
and  silver  of  the  vessels,  the  purple  and  saffron  robes;  if 
we   set   the  music  playing  and  bid  the  oxen  low;  if  we 


1 6  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

gird  our  living  picture  with  the  blaze  of  an  August  noon  and 
crown  it  with  the  Acropolis  of  Athens,  we  may  form  a 
conception,  better  perhaps  than  could  otherwise  be  obtained, 
of  what  religion  really  meant  to  the  citizen  of  a  state  whose 
activities  were  thus  habitually  symbolised  in  the  cult  of 
its  patron  deity.  Religion  to  him,  clearly,  could  hardly 
be  a  thing  apart,  dwelling  in  the  internal  region  of  the 
soul  and  leaving  outside,  untouched  by  the  light  of  the 
ideal,  the  whole  business  and  complexity  of  the  material 
side  of  life;  to  him  it  was  the  vividly  present  and  active 
soul  of  his  corporate  existence,  representing  in  the  symbolic 
forms  of  ritual  the  actual  facts  of  his  experience.  What 
he  re-enacted  periodically,  in  ordered  ceremony,  was  but 
the  drama  of  his  daily  hfe;  so  that,  as  we  said  before, 
the  state  in  one  of  its  aspects  was  a  church,  and  every 
layman  from  one  point  of  view  a  priest. 

The  question,  "What  did  a  belief  in  the  gods  really 
mean  to  the  Greek  "  has  now  received  at  least  some  sort 
of  answer.  It  meant,  to  recur  to  our  old  phrase,  that  he 
was  made  at  home  in  the  world.  In  place  of  the  unintelligible 
powers  of  nature,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  company  of  beings 
like  himself;  and  these  beings  who  controlled  the  physical 
world  were  also  the  creators  of  human  society.  From  them 
were  descended  the  Heroes  who  founded  families  and  states ; 
and  under  their  guidance  and  protection  cities  prospered 
and  throve.  Their  histories  were  recounted  in  innumerable 
myths,  and  these  again  were  embodied  in  ritual.  The  whole 
life  of  man,  in  its  relations  both  to  nature  and  to  society,  was 
conceived  as  derived  from  and  dependent  upon  his  gods; 
and  this  dependence  was  expressed  and  brought  vividly 
home  to  him  in  a  series  of  religious  festivals.  Belief  in 
the  gods  was  not  to  him  so  much  an  intellectual  conviction. 


RELATION  OF  MAN  TO  THE   GODS  1 7 

as  a  spiritual  atmosphere  in  which  he  moved ;  and  to  think 
it  away  would  be  to  think  away  the  whole  structure  of 
Greek  civdlisation. 

§  6.    The  Greek  Cojiception  of  the  Relation  of 
Man  to  the  Gods. 

Admitting,  however,  that  all  this  is  true,  admitting  the 
place  of  religion  in  Greek  life,  do  we  not  end,  after  all, 
in  a  greater  puzzle  than  we  began  with  ?  For  this,  it 
may  be  said,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  not  what  we  mean  by 
religion.  This,  after  all,  is  merely  a  beautiful  way  of 
expressing  facts;  a  translation,  not  an  interpretation,  of  life. 
What  we  mean  by  religion  is  something  very  different  to 
that,  something  which  concerns  the  relation  of  the  soul 
to  God;  the  sense  of  sin,  for  example,  and  of  repentance 
and  grace.  The  religion  of  the  Greeks,  we  may  admit,  did 
something  for  them  w'hich  our  religion  does  not  do  for 
us.  It  gave  intelligible  and  beautiful  form  to  those  pheno- 
mena of  nature  which  we  can  only  describe  as  manifestations 
of  energy;  it  expressed  in  a  ritual  of  exquisite  art  those 
cori:)orate  relations  which  we  can  only  enunciate  in  abstract 
terms;  but  did  it  perform  what  after  all,  it  may  be  said,  is 
the  true  function  of  religion?  did  it  touch  the  conscience 
as  well  as  the  imagination  and  intellect? 

To  this  question  we  may  answer  at  once,  broadly 
speaking.  No!  It  was,  we  might  say,  a  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  the  Greek  religion  that  it  did  not  concern 
itself  with  the  conscience  at  all;  the  conscience,  in  fact, 
did  not  yet  exist,  to  enact  that  drama  of  the  soul  with 
God  which  is  the  main  interest  of  the  Christian,  or  at 
least  of  the  Protestant  faith.  To  bring  this  point  home 
to   us   let  us   open  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress ",  and  present 


1 8  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

to  ourselves,  in  its  most  vivid  colours,  the  position  of  the 
English  Puritan : 

"  Now,  I  saw,  upon  a  time,  when  he  was  walking  in 
the  fields,  that  he  was  (as  he  was  wont)  reading  in  his 
book,  and  greatly  distressed  in  his  mind ;  and,  as  he  read, 
he  burst  out,  as  he  had  done  before,  crying,  'What  shall 
I  do  to  be  saved  ? '  I  looked  then,  and  saw  a  man 
named  Evangelist  coming  to  him,  and  asked,  'Wherefore 
dost  thou  cry  ? ' 

"  He  answered,  *  Sir,  I  perceive  by  the  book  in  my 
hand,  that  I  am  condenmed  to  die,  and  after  that  to 
come  to  judgment;  and  I  find  that  I  am  not  willing  to 
do  the  first,  nor  able  to  do  the  second.' 

"  Then  said  Evangelist,  *  Why  not  willing  to  die,  since 
this  life  is  attended  with  so  many  evils?'  The  man 
answered,  'Because  I  fear  that  this  burden  that  is  upon 
my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the  grave,  and  I  shall 
fall  into  Tophet.  And,  Sir,  if  I  be  not  fit  to  go  to 
prison,  I  am  not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from  thence 
to  execution;  and  the  thoughts  of  these  things  makes 
me  cry.' 

"Then  said  Evangelist,  'If  this  be  thy  condition,  why 
standest  thou  still?'  He  answered,  'Because  I  know  not 
whither  to  go.'  Then  he  gave  him  a  parchment  roll, 
and  there  was  written  within,  'Fly  from  the  wrath  to 
come.' " 

The  whole  s])irit  of  the  passage  transcribed,  and  of  the 
book  from  which  it  is  quoted,  is  as  alien  as  can  be  to 
the  spirit  of  the  Greeks.  To  the  Puritan,  the  inward 
relation  of  the  soul  to  God  is  everj'thing ;  to  the  average 
Greek,  one  may  say  broadly,  it  was  nothing;  it  would  have 
been  at  variance  with  his  whole  conception  of  the  divine 


DIVINATION,    OMENS,   ORACLES  19 

power.  For  the  gods  of  Greece  were  beings  essentially 
like  man,  superior  to  him  not  in  spiritual  nor  even  in 
moral  attributes,  but  in  outward  gifts,  such  as  strength, 
beauty,  and  immortality.  And  as  a  consequence  of  this 
his  relations  to  them  were  not  inward  and  spiritual,  but 
external  and  mechanical.  In  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of 
deities,  capricious  and  conflicting  in  their  wills,  he  had 
to  find  his  way  as  best  he  could.  There  was  no  knowing 
precisely  what  a  god  might  want;  there  was  no  knowing 
what  he  might  be  going  to  do.  If  a  man  fell  into  trouble, 
no  doubt  he  had  offended  somebody,  but  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  say  whom  or  how;  if  he  neglected  the  proper 
observances  no  doubt  he  would  be  punished,  but  it  was 
not  everyone  who  knew  what  the  proper  observances  were. 
Altogether  it  was  a  difficult  thing  to  ascertain  or  to 
move  the  will  of  the  gods,  and  one  must  help  oneself 
as  best  one  could.  The  Greek,  accordingly,  helped 
himself  by  an  elaborate  system  of  sacrifice  and  prayer 
and  divination,  a  system  which  had  no  connection  with 
an  internal  spiritual  life,  but  the  object  of  which  was 
simply  to  discover  and  if  possible  to  affect  the  divine 
purposes.  This  is  what  we  meant  by  saying  that  the 
Greek  view  of  the  relation  of  man  *o  the  gods  was 
mechanical.     The  point  will  become  clearei  by  illustration. 

§  7.  Divination^    Omens,   Oracles. 

Let  us  take  first  a  question  which  much  exercised  the 
Greek  mind — the  difficulty  of  forecasting  the  future.  Clearly, 
the  notion  that  the  world  was  controlled  by  a  crowd 
of  capricious  deities,  swayed  by  human  passions  and 
desires,  was  incompatible  with  the  idea  of  fixed  law;  but 
on  the  other  hand  it   made  it    possible  to  suppose  that 


20  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

some  iritimation  might  be  had  from  the  gods,  either 
directly  or  symbolically,  of  what  their  intentions  and  purposes 
really  were.  And  on  this  hypothesis  we  find  developed 
quite  early  in  Greek  history,  a  complex  art  of  divining 
the  future  by  signs.  The  flight  of  birds  and  other  phenomena 
of  the  heavens,  events  encountered  on  the  road,  the 
speech  of  passers-by,  or,  most  important  of  all,  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  entrails  of  the  victims  sacrificed  were  sup- 
posed to  indicate  the  probable  course  of  events.  And  this 
art,  already  mature  in  the  time  of  the  Homeric  poems,  we 
find  flourishing  throughout  tlie  historic  age.  Nothing  could 
better  indicate  its  prevalence  and  its  scope  than  the  following 
passage  from  Aristophanes,  where  he  ridicules  the  readi- 
ness of  his  contemporaries  to  see  in  everything  an  omen, 
or,  as  he  puts  it,  punning  on  the  Greek  word,  a  "  bird " : 
"  On  us  you  depend,"  sings  his  chorus  of  Birds, 

"On  us  you  depend,  and  to  us  you  repair 
For  counsel  and  aid,  when  a  marriage  is  made, 
A  purchase,  a  bargain,   a  venture  in  trade ; 
Unlucky  or  lucky,  whatever  has  struck   ye, 
An  ox  or  an  ass,  that  may  happen  to  pass, 
A  voice  in  the  street,  or  a  slave  that  you  meet, 
A  name  or  a   word  by  chance  overheard, 
You  deem  it  an  omen,  and  call  it  a  Bird."  * 

Aristophanes,  of  course,  is  jesting;  but  how  serious  and 
hnportant  this  art  of  divination  must  have  appeared  even 
to  the  most  cultivated  Athenians  may  be  gathered  from 
a  passage  of  the  tragedian  ^schylus,  where  he  mentions 
it  as  one  of  the  benefits  conferred  by  Prometheus  on 
mankind,  and  puts  it  on  a  level  with  the  arts  of  building, 

*  Aristoph.  "Birds"  717. — Frere's  translation. 


DIVINATION,   OMENS,    ORACLES  21 

metal- making,   sailing,   and   the   like,    and  the  sciences  of 
arithmetic  and  astronomy. 

And  if  anyone  were  dissatisfied  with  this  method  of 
inteq')retation  by  signs,  he  had  a  directer  means  of  ap- 
proaching the  gods.  He  could  visit  one  of  the  oracles 
and  consult  the  deity  at  first  hand  about  his  most  trivial 
and  personal  family  afiairs.  Some  of  the  questions  put 
to  the  oracle  at  Dodona  have  been  preserved  to  us,  ^ 
and  very  curious  they  are.  "  Who  stole  my  cushions  and 
pillow  ?  "  asks  one  bereaved  householder.  Another  wants 
to  know  whether  it  will  pay  him  to  buy  a  certain  house 
and  farm ;  another  whether  sheep-farming  is  a  good  invest- 
ment. Clearly,  the  god  was  not  above  being  consulted 
on  the  meanest  afifairs;  and  his  easy  accessibility  must 
have  been  some  compensation  for  his  probable  caprice. 

Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  this  phase  of  the  Greek 
religion  was  a  superstition  confined  to  individuals;  on  the 
contrary,  it  was  fully  recognised  by  the  state.  No  im- 
portant public  act  could  be  undertaken  without  a  previous 
consultation  of  omens.  More  than  once,  in  the 
clearest  and  most  brilliant  period  of  the  Greek  civilisation, 
we  hear  of  military  expeditions  being  abandoned  because 
the  sacrifices  were  unfavourable;  and  at  the  time  of  the 
Persian  invasion,  at  the  most  critical  moment  of  the 
history  of  Greece,  the  Lacedaemonians,  we  are  told,  came 
too  late  to  be  present  at  the  battle  of  Marathon,  because 
they   thought  it  unlucky  to  start  until  the  moon  was  full. 

In  all  this  we  have  a  suggestion  of  the  sort  of  relation 
in  which  the  Greek  conceived  himself  to  stand  to  the  gods. 
It  is  a  relation,  as  we  said,  external  and  mechanical.     Tlie 

*See  Percy  Gardaer,   "New  Chapters  in  Greek  History." 

3 


22  ThE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

gods  were  superior  beings  who  knew,  it  might  be  presumed, 
what  was  going  to  happen ;  man  didn't  know,  but  perhaps 
he  could  find  out.  How  could  he  find  out?  that  was  the 
problem ;  and  it  was  answered  in  the  way  we  have  seen. 
There  was  no  question,  clearly,  of  a  spiritual  relation; 
all  is  external;  and  a  similar  externality  pervades,  on  the 
whole,  the  Greek  view  of  sacrifice  and  of  sin.  Let  us 
turn  now  to  consider  this  point. 

§  8.  Sacrifice  and  Atonement, 

In  Homer,  we  find  that  sacrifice  is  frankly  conceived 
as  a  sort  of  present  to  the  gods,  for  which  they  were  in 
fairness  bound  to  an  equivalent  return;  and  the  nature 
of  the  bargain  is  fully  recognised  by  the  gods  them- 
selves. 

"Hector,"  says  Zeus  to  Hera,  "  was  dearest  to  the  gods 
of  all  mortals  that  are  in  Ilios.  So  was  he  to  me  at  least, 
for  nowise  failed  he  in  the  gifts  I  loved.  Never  did  my 
altar  lack  seemly  feast,  drink-offering  and  the  steam  of 
sacrifice,  even  the  honour  that  falleth  to  our  due."  *  And 
he  concludes  that  he  must  intervene  to  secure  the  re- 
storation of  the  body  of  Hector  to  his  father. 

The  performance  of  sacrifice,  then,  ensures  favour;  and 
on  the  other  hand  its  neglect  entails  punishment.  When 
Apollo  sends  a  plague  upon  the  Greek  fleet  the  most 
natural  hypothesis  to  account  for  his  conduct  is  that  he 
has  been  stinted  of  his  due  meed  of  offerings;  "perhaps," 
says  Agamemnon,  "  the  savour  of  lambs  and  unblemished 
goats  may  appease  him."  Or  again,  when  the  Greeks 
omit  to  sacrifice  before  building  the  wall  around  their 
fleet,  they  are  punished  by  the  capture  of  their  position 
*  Iliad  xxiv.  66. — Translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers. 


SACRIFICE  AND   ATONEMENT  23 

by  the  Trojans.  The  whole  relation  between  man  and 
the  gods  is  of  the  nature  of  a  contract.  "  If  you  do  your 
part,  I'll  do  mine;  if  not,  not!"  that  is  the  tone  of  the 
language  on  either  side.  The  conception  is  legal,  not 
moral  nor  spiritual ;  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  what  we  call 
sin  and  conscience. 

At  a  later  period,  it  is  true,  wc  find  a  point  of  view 
prevailing  which  appears  at  first  sight  to  come  closer  to 
that  of  the  Christian.  Certain  acts  we  find,  such  as  mur- 
der, for  example,  were  supposed  to  infect  as  with  a  stain 
not  only  the  original  offender  but  his  descendants  from 
generation  to  generation.  Yet  even  so,  the  stain,  it  appears, 
was  conceived  to  be  rather  physical  than  moral,  analogous 
to  disease  both  in  its  character  and  in  the  methods  of  its 
cure,  ^schylus  tells  us  of  the  earth  breeding  monsters  as 
a  result  of  the  corruption  infused  by  the  shedding 
of  blood ;  and  similarly  a  purely  physical  infection  tainted 
the  man  or  the  race  that  had  been  guilty  of  crime. 
And  as  was  the  evil,  so  was  the  remedy.  External  acts 
and  observations  might  cleanse  and  purge  away  what  was 
regarded  as  an  external  affection  of  the  soul;  and  we 
know  that  in  historic  times  there  was  a  class  of  men,  com- 
parable to  the  mediaeval  "  pardoners",  whose  profession  it 
was  to  effect  such  cures.  Plato  has  described  them  for 
us  in  striking  terms.  "Mendicant  prophets,"  he  says,  "go 
to  rich  men's  doors  and  persuade  them  that  they  have  a 
power  committed  to  them  of  making  an  atonement  for 
their  sins  or  those  of  their  fathers  by  sacrifices  or  charms 
with  rejoicings  and  games;  and  they  promise  to  harm  an 
enemy  whether  just  or  unjust,  at  a  small  charge;  with  ma- 
gic arts  and  incantations  binding  the  will  of  heaven,  as 
they  say,   to   do   their   work  ....     And  they  produce  a 


24  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

host  of  books  written  by  Musseus  and  Orpheus,  who  were 
children  of  the  Moon  and  the  Muses — that  is  what  they 
say— according  to  which  they  perform  their  ritual,  and 
persuade  not  only  individuals,  but  whole  cities,  that  ex- 
piations and  atonements  for  sin  may  be  made  by  sacrifices 
and  amusements  which  fill  a  vacant  hour."  * 

How  far  is  all  this  from  the  Puritan  view  of  sin!  how 
far  from  the  Christian  of  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress "  with 
the  burden  on  his  backl  To  measure  the  distance  we 
have  only  to  attend,  with  this  passage  in  our  mind,  a 
meeting,  say,  of  the  "Salvation  Army".  We  shall  then 
perhaps  understand  better  the  distinction  between  the 
popular  religion  of  the  Greeks  and  our  own;  between  the 
conception  of  sin  as  a  physical  contagion  to  be  cured  by 
external  rites,  and  the  conception  of  it  as  an  affection  of 
the  conscience  which  only  "grace"  can  expel.  In  the 
one  case  the  fact  that  a  man  was  under  the  taint  of  crime 
would  be  borne  in  upon  him  by  actual  misfortune  from 
without — by  sickness,  or  failure  in  business,  or  some  other 
of  the  troubles  of  life;  and  he  would  ease  his  mind  and 
recover  the  spring  of  hope  by  performing  certain  cere- 
monies and  rites.  In  the  other  case,  his  trouble  is  all 
inward;  he  feels  that  he  is  guilty  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  the  only  thing  that  can  relieve  him  is  the  certainty 
that  he  has  been  forgiven,  assured  him  somehow  or  other 
from  within.  The  difference  is  fundamental,  and  important 
to  bear  in  mind,  if  we  would  form  a  clear  conception 
of  the  Greek  view  of  life. 

§  g.   Guilt  and  Punishment. 

It   must   not  be   supposed,   however,    that   the    popular 
*  Plato's  Republic,  11.  364b.  —  Jowelt's  translation. 


GUILT   AND   PUNISHMENT  25 

superstition  described  by  Plato,  however  characteristic  it 
may  be  of  the  point  of  view  of  the  Greeks,  represents  the 
highest  reach  of  their  thought  on  the  subject  of  guilt. 
No  profounder  utterances  are  to  be  found  on  this  theme 
than  those  of  the  great  poets  and  thinkers  of  Greece,  who, 
without  rejecting  the  common  beliefs  of  their  time,  trans- 
formed them  by  the  insight  of  their  genius  into  a  new  and 
deeper  significance.  Specially  striking  in  this  connection 
is  the  poetry  of  the  tragedian  ^schylus;  and  it  will  be 
well  worth  our  while  to  pause  for  a  moment  and  endeavour 
to  realise  his  position. 

Guilt  and  its  pimishment  is  the  constant  theme  of  the 
dramas  of  -^schylus ;  and  he  has  exhausted  the  resources 
of  his  genius  in  the  attempt  to  depict  the  horror  of  the 
avenging  powers,  who  under  the  name  of  the  Erinyes,  or 
Furies,  persecute  and  torment  the  criminal.  Their  breath 
is  foul  with  the  blood  on  which  they  feed;  from  their 
rheumy  eyes  a  horrible  humour  drops;  daughters  of  night 
and  clad  in  black  they  fly  without  wings;  god  and  man 
and  the  very  beasts  shun  them ;  their  place  is  with  punish- 
ment and  torture,  mutilation,  stoning  and  breaking  of 
necks.  And  into  their  mouth  the  poet  has  put  words 
which  seem  to  breathe  the  very  spirit  of  the  Jewish  scrip- 
tures. 

"Come  now  let  us  preach  to  the  sons  of  men;  yea,  let  us  tel! 
them  of  our  vengeance ;  yea,  let  us  all  make  mention  of  justice. 

"  Whoso  showeth  hands  that  are  undefiled,  lo,  he  shall  suffer 
nought  of  us  for  evcr^  but  shall  go  unharmed  to  his  ending. 

"  But  if  he  hath  sinned,  like  imto  this  man,  and  covereth  hands 
that    are    blood-stained  :  then  is  our  witness  true  to  the  slain  m;ui. 


26  THE  GREEK    VIEW   OF  LIFE 

"And    we    sue    for    the  blood,  sue  and  pursue  for  it,  so  that  at 

the  last  there  is  payment. 

Even  so  'tis  written: 

(Oh  scuteucc  sure !) 
■  Upon  all  that  wild  in  wickedness  dij)  hand 
III    the    blood   of   their  birth,   in  the  fount  of  their  flowing: 
So   shall    he    pine   until   the   grave    receive   him — to  find  no 
grace  even  in  the  grave! 

Sing  then  the  spell. 

Sisters  of  hell ; 

Chaut  him  the  charra 

Mighty   to   harm, 

Binding  the  blood. 

Madding  the  mood; 
Such  the  music  that  we  make: 

Quail,  ye  sons  of  man,  and  quake, 

Bow  the  heart,  and  bend,  and  break! 

This  is  our  ministry  marked  for  us  from  the  beginning; 
This  is  our  gift,  and  our  portion  apart,  and  our  godhead, 

Ours,  ours  only  for  ever, 
Darkness,  robes  of  darkness,  a  robe  of  terror  for  ever! 

Ruin  is  ours,  ruin  and  wreck; 

"When  to  the  home 

Murder  hath  come, 

Making  to  cease 

Innocent  peace; 

Then  at  his  beck 

Follow  we  in, 

Follow  the  sin ; 
And  ah !   we  hold   to  the  ead  when  we  bej^in !"  ' 

There  is  no  poetry  more  sublime  than  this;  none  more 

penetrated    with   the    sense   of  moral   law.     But   still  it  is 

*^schyl.  Eum.  297. — Translated  by  Dr.  Verrall  (Cambridge,  1885). 


GUILT    AND  PUNISHMENT  2^ 

whohy  Greek  in  character.  The  theme  is  not  really  the 
conscience  of  the  sinner  but  the  objective  consequence  of 
his  crime.  "Blood  calls  for  blood,"  is  the  poet's  text;  a 
man,  he  says,  must  pay  for  what  he  does.  The  tragedy 
is  the  punishment  of  the  guilty,  not  his  inward  sense  of 
sin.  Orestes,  in  fact,  who  is  the  subject  of  the  drama 
with  which  we  are  concerned,  in  a  sense  was  not  a 
sinner  at  all.  He  had  killed  his  mother,  it  is  true,  but 
only  to  avenge  his  father  whom  she  had  murdered,  and 
at  the  express  bidding  of  Apollo.  So  far  is  he  from 
feeling  the  pangs  of  conscience  that  he  constantly  jus- 
tifies his  act.  He  suffers,  not  because  he  has  sinned  but 
because  he  is  involved  in  the  curse  of  his  race.  For 
generations  back  the  house  of  Atreus  had  been  tainted 
with  blood;  murder  had  called  for  murder  to  avenge  it; 
and  Orestes,  the  last  descendant,  caught  in  the  net  of 
guilt,  found  that  his  only  possibility  of  right  action  lay  in  a 
crime.  He  was  bound  to  avenge  his  father,  the  god 
Apollo  had  enjoined  it;  and  the  avenging  of  his  father 
meant  the  murder  of  his  mother.  What  he  commits,  then, 
is  a  crime,  but  not  a  sin;  and  so  it  is  regarded  by  the 
poet.  The  tragedy,  as  we  have  said,  centres  round  an 
external  objective  law— "blood  calls  for  blood."  But  that 
is  all.  Of  the  internal  drama  of  the  soul  with  God,  the 
division  of  the  man  against  himself,  the  remorse,  the 
repentance,  the  new  birth,  the  giving  or  withholding  of 
grace — of  all  this,  the  essential  content  of  Christian 
Protestantism,  not  a  trace  in  the  clear  and  concrete  vision 
of  the  Greek.  The  profoundest  of  the  poets  of  Hellas, 
dealing  with  the  darkest  problem  of  guilt,  is  true  to  the 
plastic  genius  of  his  race.  The  spirit  throws  outside  itself 
the  law  of  its  own  being;  by  objective  external  evidence 


28  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

it  learns  that  doing  involves  suffering;  and  its  moral  con- 
viction comes  to  it  only  when  forced  upon  it  from  without 
by  a  direct  experience  of  physical  evil.  Of  /Eschylus, 
the  most  Hebraic  of  the  Hellenes,  it  is  as  true  as  of  the 
average  Greek,  that  in  the  Puritan  meaning  of  the  phrase 
he  had  no  sense  of  sin.  And  even  in  treating  of  him, 
we  must  still  repeat  what  we  said  at  the  beginning,  that 
the  Greek  conception  of  the  relation  of  man  to  the  gods 
is  external  and  mechanical,  not  inward  and  spiritual. 

§  10.  Mysticism. 

But  there  is  nothing  so  misleading  as  generalisation, 
specially  on  the  subject  of  the  Greeks.  Again  and  again 
when  we  think  we  have  laid  hold  of  their  character- 
istic view  we  are  confronted  with  some  new  aspect 
of  their  life  which  we  cannot  fit  into  harmony  with  our 
scheme.  There  is  no  formula  which  will  sum  up  that 
versatile  and  many-sided  people.  And  so,  in  the  case 
before  us,  we  have  no  sooner  made  what  appears  to  be 
the  safe  and  comprehensive  statement  tliat  the  Greeks 
conceived  the  relation  of  man  to  the  gods  mechanically, 
than  we  are  reminded  of  quite  another  phase  uf  their 
religion,  dififerent  from  and  even  antithetic  to  that  with 
which  we  have  hitherto  been  concerned.  Nothing,  we 
might  be  inchned  to  say  on  the  basis  of  what  we  have 
at  present  ascertained,  nothing  could  be  more  opposed  to 
the  clear  anthropomorphic  vision  of  the  Greek,  than  that 
conception  of  a  mystic  exaltation,  so  constcmtly  occurring 
in  the  history  of  religion,  whose  aim  is  to  transcend  the 
limits  of  human  personality  and  pass  into  direct  communion 
with  the  divine  life.  Yet  of  some  such  conception,  and 
of    the   ritual   devised   under   its   influence,   we   have   un- 


MYSTICISM  29 

doubted  though  fragmentary  indications  in  the  civilization 
of  the  Greeks.  It  is  mainly  in  connection  with  the  two 
gods  Apollo  and  Dionysus  that  the  phenomena  in  ques- 
tion occur;  gods  whose  cult  was  introduced  comparatively 
late  into  Greece  and  who  brought  with  them  from  the 
north  something  of  its  formless  but  pregnant  mystery;  as 
though  at  a  point  the  chain  of  guardian  deities  was  broken, 
and  the  terror  and  forces  of  the  abyss  pressed  in  upon 
the  charmed  circle  of  Hellas.  For  Apollo,  who  in  one 
of  his  aspects  is  a  figure  so  typically  Hellenic,  the  ever- 
young  and  beautiful  god  of  music  and  the  arts,  was  also 
the  Power  of  prophetic  inspiration,  of  ecstasy  or  passing 
out  of  oneself.  The  priestess  who  dehvered  his  oracle  at 
Delphi  was  possessed  and  mastered  by  the  god.  Maddened 
by  mephitic  vapours  streaming  from  a  cleft  in  the  rock, 
convulsed  in  every  feature  and  every  Hmb,  she  delivered 
in  semi-articulate  cries  the  burden  of  the  divine  message. 
Her  own  personality,  for  the  time  being,  was  annihilated ;  the 
wall  that  parts  man  from  god  was  swept  away;  and  the  Divine 
rushed  in  upon  the  human  vessel  it  shattered  as  it  filled. 
This  conception  of  inspiration  as  a  higher  form  of 
madness,  possessed  of  a  truer  insight  than  that  of 
sanity,  was  fully  recognised  among  the  Greeks.  "  There 
is  a  madness,"  as  Plato  puts  it,  "which  is  the  special 
gift  of  heaven,  and  the  source  of  the  chiefest  bless- 
ings among  men.  For  prophecy  is  a  madness,  and  the 
prophetess  at  Delphi  and  the  priestesses  at  Dodona  when 
out  of  their  senses  have  conferred  great  benefits  on 
Hellas,  both  in  public  and  private  life,  but  when  in  their 
senses  few  or  none  ....  And  in  proportion  as  prophecy 
is  higher  and  more  perfect  than  divination  both  in  name 
and     reality,    in    the    same    proportion,    as    the    ancients 


30  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

testify,  is  madness  superior  to  a  sane  mind,  for  the  one  is 
only  of  human,  but  the  other  of  divine  origin."  * 

Here  then,  in  the  oracle  at  Delphi,  the  centre  of  the 
religious  Hfe  of  the  Greeks,  we  have  an  explicit  affirma- 
tion of  that  element  of  mysticism  which  we  might  have 
supposed  to  be  the  most  alien  to  their  genius;  and  the  same 
element  re-appears,  in  a  cruder  and  more  barbaric  form, 
in  connection  with  the  cult  of  Dionysus.  He,  the  god  of 
wine,  was  also  the  god  of  inspiration ;  and  the  ritual  with 
which  he  was  worshipped  was  a  kind  of  apotheosis  of 
intoxication.  To  suppress  for  a  time  the  ordinary  work- 
a-day  consciousness,  with  its  tedium,  its  checks,  its 
balancing  of  pros  and  cons,  to  escape  into  the  directness 
and  simplicity  of  mere  animal  life,  and  yet  to  feel  in 
this  no  degradation  but  rather  a  submission  to  the  divine 
power,  an  actual  identification  with  the  deity— such,  it 
would  seem,  was  the  intention  of  those  extraordinary 
revels  of  which  we  have  in  the  "Bacchae"  of  Euripides 
so  vivid  a  description.  And  to  this  end  no  stimulus  was 
omitted  to  excite  and  inspire  the  imagination  and  the 
sense.  The  influence  of  night  and  torches  in  solitary 
woods,  intoxicating  drinks,  the  din  of  flutes  and  cymbals 
on  a  bass  of  thunderous  drums,  dances  convulsing  every 
limb  and  dazzling  eyes  and  brain,  the  harking-back,  as 
it  were,  to  the  sympathies  and  forms  of  animal  life  in 
the  dress  of  fawnskin,  the  horns,  the  snakes  twined  about 
the  arm,  and  the  impersonation  of  those  strange 
half-human  creatures  who  were  supposed  to  attend  upon  the 
god,  the  satyrs,  nymphs,  and  fauns  who  formed  his  train — 
all  this  points  to  an  attempt  to  escape  from  the  bounds  of 
ordinary  consciousness  and  pass  into  some  condition 
^  Plato,  Phaedrus,  244. — Jowett's  translation. 


MYSTICISM  3 1 

conceived,  however  confusedly,  as  one  of  union  with  the 
divine  power.  And  though  the  basis,  clearly  enough,  is 
physical  and  even  bestial,  yet  the  whole  ritual  does 
undoubtedly  express,  and  that  with  a  plastic  grace  and 
beauty  that  redeems  its  frank  sensuality,  that  passion  to 
transcend  the  limitations  of  human  existence  which  is  at 
the  bottom  of  the  mystic  element  in  all  religions. 

But  this  orgy  of  the  senses  was  not  the  only  form  which 
the  worship  of  Dionysus  took  in  Greece.  In  connection 
with  one  of  his  legends,  the  myth  of  Dionysus  Zagreus, 
we  find  traces  of  an  esoteric  doctrine,  taught  by  what 
were  known  as  the  orphic  sects,  very  curiously  opposed, 
one  would  have  said,  to  the  general  trend  of  Greek  con- 
ceptions. According  to  the  story,  Zagreus  was  the  son  of 
Zeus  and  Persephone.  Hera,  in  her  jealousy,  sent  the 
Titans  to  destroy  him;  after  a  struggle,  they  managed  to 
kill  him,  cut  him  up  and  devoured  all  but  the  heart, 
which  was  saved  by  Athene  and  carried  to  Zeus.  Zeus 
Swallowed  it,  and  produced  therefrom  a  second  Dionysus. 
The  Titans  he  destroyed  by  lightning,  and  from  their 
ashes  created  Man.  Man  is  thus  composed  of  two  ele- 
ments, one  bad,  the  Titanic,  the  other  good,  the  Dionysiac ; 
the  latter  being  derived  from  the  body  of  Dionysus,  which 
the  Titans  had  devoured.  This  fundamental  dualism, 
according  to  the  doctrine  founded  on  the  myth,  is  the 
perpetual  tragedy  of  man's  existence;  and  his  perpetual 
struggle  is  to  purify  himself  of  the  Titanic  element.  The 
process  extends  over  many  incarnations,  but  an  ultimate 
deliverance  is  promised  by  the  aid  of  the  redeemer  Dionysus 
Lysius. 

The  belief  thus  briefly  described  was  not  part  of  the 
popular  religion  of  the  Greeks,  but  it  was  a  normal  growth 


32  THE   GREEK    VIEW   OF   LIFE 

of  their  consciousness,  and  it  is  mentioned  here  as  a 
further  indication  that  even  in  what  we  call  the  classi- 
cal age  there  were  not  wanting  traces  of  the  more  mystic 
and  spiritual  side  of  religion.  Here,  in  the  tenets  of  these 
Orphic  sects,  we  have  the  doctrine  of  "  original  sin,"  the 
conception  of  life  as  a  struggle  between  two  opposing 
principles,  and  the  promise  of  an  ultimate  redemption  by 
the  help  of  the  divine  power.  And  if  this  be  taken  in 
connection  with  the  universal  and  popular  belief  in  inspi- 
ration as  possession  by  the  god,  we  shall  see  that  our 
original  statement  that  the  relation  of  man  to  the  gods 
was  mechanical  and  external  in  the  Greek  conception, 
must  at  least  be  so  far  modified  that  it  must  be  taken 
only  as  an  expression  of  the  central  or  dominant  point 
of  view,  not  as  excluding  other  and  even  contradictory 
standpoints. 

Still,  broadly  speaking  and  admitting  the  limitations, 
the  statement  may  stand.  If  the  Greek  popular  religion 
be  compared  with  that  of  the  Christian  world,  the  great 
distinction  certainly  emerges,  that  in  the  one  the  relation 
of  God  to  man  is  conceived  as  mechanical  and  external, 
in  the  other  as  inward  and  spiritual.  The  point  has  been 
sufficiently  illustrated,  and  we  may  turn  to  another 
division  of  our  subject. 

§  II.   The  Greek   Vieiv  of  Death  and  a 
Future  Life. 

Of  all  the  problems  on  which  we  expect  light  to  be 
thrown  by  religion  none,  to  us,  is  more  pressing  than  that 
of  death.  A  fundamental,  and  as  many  believe,  the 
most  essential  part  of  Christianity,  is  its  doctrine  of  reward 


IHE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  DEATH  AND  A  FUTURE  LIFE  33 

aod  punishment  in  the  world  beyond;  and  a  religion 
which  had  nothing  at  all  to  say  about  this  great  enigma 
we  should  hardly  feel  to  be  a  religion  at  all.  And 
certainly  on  this  head  the  Greeks,  more  than  any  people 
that  ever  lived,  must  have  required  a  consolation  and  a 
hope.  Just  in  proportion  as  their  life  was  fuller  and  richer 
than  that  which  has  been  lived  by  any  other  race,  just 
in  proportion  as  their  capacity  for  enjoyment,  in  body 
and  soul,  was  keener,  as  their  senses  were  finer,  theii 
intellect  broader,  their  passions  more  intense,  must  they  have 
felt,  with  peculiar  emphasis,  the  horror  of  decay  and 
death.  And  such,  in  fact,  is  the  characteristic  note  of 
their  utterances  on  this  theme.  "Rather,"  says  the  ghost 
of  Achilles  to  Odysseus  in  the  world  of  shades,  "  rather 
would  I  live  upon  the  soil  as  the  hireling  of  another,  with 
a  landless  man  who  had  no  great  livelihood,  than  bear 
sway  among  all  the  dead  that  are  no  more."  *  Better, 
£is  Shakespeare  has  it, 

"The  weariest  and  most  loathed  worldly  life 
That  age,  ache,  peuury  and   imprisonment 
Can  lay  on  nature," 

better  that,  on  earth  at  least  and  in  the  sun,  than  the 
phantom  kingdoms  of  the  dead.  The  fear  of  age  and 
death  is  the  shadow  of  the  love  of  life;  and  on  no 
people  has  it  fallen  with  more  horror  than  on  the  Greeks. 
The  tenderest  of  their  songs  of  love  close  with  a  sob; 
and  it  is  an  autumn  wind  that  rustles  in  their  bowers  of 
spring.  Here,  for  example,  is  a  poem  by  Mimnermus 
characteristic  of  this  mood  of  the  Greeks: 

*0d.  xi    489. — Translated  by  Butcher  and  Lang, 


34  1"HE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

*•  O  golden  Love,  what  life,  what  joy  but  thine  ? 

Come    deatli,    when    thou    art  gone,  and  make   an  end  I 
When  gifts  and  tokens   are  no  longer   mine, 

Nor  the  sweet  intimacies  of  a  friend. 
These  are  the  flowers   of  youth.     But  painful  age 

The  bane  of  beauty,  following  swiftly  on, 
Wearies  the  heart  of  man  with  sad  presage 

And  takes  away  his  pleasure  in   the  sun. 
Hateful  is   he  to  maiden  and  to  boy 
And  fashioned  by  the  gods  for  our   annoy."* 

Such  being  the  general  view  of  the  Greeks  on  the  sub- 
ject of  death,  what  has  their  religion  to  say  by  way  of 
consolation  ?  It  taught,  to  begin  with,  that  the  spirit  does 
survive  after  death.  But  this  survival,  as  it  is  described 
in  the  Homeric  poems,  is  merely  that  of  a  phantom  and 
a  shade,  a  bloodless  and  colourless  duplicate  of  the  man 
as  he  lived  on  earth.  Listen  to  the  account  Odysseus 
gives  of  his  meeting  with  his  mother's  ghost. 

"So  spake  she,  and  I  mused  in  my  heart  and  would 
fain  have  embraced  the  spirit  of  my  mother  dead.  Thrice 
I  sprang  towards  her,  and  was  minded  to  embrace  her; 
thrice  she  flitted  from  my  hands  as  a  shadow  or  even  as 
a  dream,  and  sharper  ever  waxed  the  grief  within  me. 
And  uttering  my  voice  I  spake  to  her  winged  words: 

" '  IMother  mine,  wherefore  dost  thou  not  tarry  for  me 
who  am  eager  to  seize  thee,  that  even  in  Hades  we  twain 
may  cast  our  arms  each  about  the  other,  and  satisfy  us 
with  chill  lament?  Is  it  but  a  phantom  that  the  high 
goddess  Persephone  hath  sent  me,  to  the  end  that  I  may 
groan  for  more  exceeding  sorrow?' 

"So  spake  I,  and  my  lady  mother  answered  me  anon:: 

*  Munnennus,  El,  i. 


THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  DEATH  AND  A  FUTURE  LIFE   35 

"  *  Ah  nie,  my  child,  luckless  above  all  men,  nought  doth 
Persephone,  the  daughter  of  Zeus,  deceive  thee,  but  even 
in  this  wise  it  is  with  mortals  when  they  die.  For  the 
sinews  no  more  bind  together  the  flesh  and  the  bones, 
but  the  force  of  burning  fire  abolishes  them,  so  soon  as 
the  life  hath  left  the  white  bones,  and  the  spirit  like  a 
dream  flies  forth  and  hovers  near.'  "  ^ 

From  such  a  conception  of  the  life  after  death  little 
comfort  could  be  drawn ;  nor  does  it  appear  that  any  was 
sought.  So  far  as  we  can  trace  the  habitual  attitude  of 
the  Greek  he  seems  to  have  occupied  himself  little  with 
speculation,  either  for  good  or  evil,  as  to  what  might 
await  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  tomb.  He  was  told 
indeed  in  his  legends  of  a  happy  place  for  the  souls  of 
heroes,  and  of  tonnents  reserved  for  great  criminals;  but 
these  ideas  do  not  seem  to  have  haunted  his  imagination. 
He  was  never  obsessed  by  that  close  and  imminent  vision 
of  heaven  and  hell  which  overshadowed  and  dwarfed,  for 
the  mediccval  mind,  the  brief  space  of  pilgrimage  on  earth. 
Rather  he  turned,  by  preference,  from  the  thought  of  death 
back  to  life,  and  in  the  memory  of  honourable  deeds  in 
the  past  and  the  hope  of  fame  for  the  future  sought  his 
compensation  for  the  loss  of  youth  and  love.  In  the 
great  funeral  speech  upon  those  who  have  fallen  in  war 
which  Thucydides  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Pericles  we  have, 
we  must  suppose,  a  reflection,  more  accurate  than  is  to 
be  found  elsewhere,  of  the  position  naturally  adopted  by 
the  average  Greek.  And  how  simple  are  the  topics,  how 
broad  and  human,  how  rigorously  confined  to  the  limits 
of  experience!     There   is    no    suggestion   anywhere   of  a 

*0d.     xi.     204. — Translated  by  Butcher  and  Lang. 


36  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

personal  existence  continued  after  death;  the  dead  live 
only  in  their  deeds ;  and  only  by  memory  are  the  survivors 
to  be  consoled. 

"  I  do  not  now  commiserate  the  parents  of  the  dead 
who  stand  here ;  I  would  rather  comfort  them.  You  know 
that  your  life  has  been  passed  amid  manifold  vicissitudes; 
and  that  they  may  be  deemed  fortunate  who  have  gained 
most  honour,  whether  an  honourable  death  like  theirs, 
or  an  honourable  sorrow  like  yours,  and  whose  days  have 
been  so  ordered  that  the  term  of  their  happiness  is  likewise 
the  term  of  their  life  .  . .  Some  of  you  are  at  an  age  at 
which  they  may  hope  to  have  other  children,  and  they 
ought  to  bear  their  sorrow  better;  not  only  will  the  children 
who  may  hereafter  be  born  make  them  forgot  their  now 
lost  ones,  but  the  city  will  be  doubly  a  gainer.  She  will 
not  be  left  desolate,  and  she  will  be  safer.  For  a  man's 
counsels  cannot  be  of  equal  weight  or  worth,  when  he  alone 
has  no  children  to  risk  in  the  general  danger.  To  those 
of  you  who  have  passed  their  prime,  I  say :  '  Congratulate 
yourselves  that  you  have  been  happy  during  the  greater 
part  of  your  days ;  remember  that  your  life  of  sorrow  will 
not  last  long,  and  be  comforted  by  the  glory  of  those  who 
are  gone.  For  the  love  of  honour  alone  is  ever  young, 
and  not  riches,  as  some  say,  but  honour  is  the  delight 
of  men  when  they  are  old  and  useless.'"* 

The  passage  perhaps  represents  what  we  may  call  the 
typical  attitude  of  the  Greek.  To  seek  consolation  for 
death,  if  anywhere,  then  in  life,  and  in  life  not  as  it  might 
be  imagined  beyond  the  grave,  but  as  it  had  been  and 
would  be  lived  on  earth,  appears  to  be  consonant  with 
all  that  we  know  of  the  clear  and  objective  temper  of 
*Thuc.  II.  44. — Jowett's  translation. 


THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  DEATH  AND  A  FUTURE  LIFE     37 

the  race.  It  is  the  spirit  which  was  noted  long  ago  by 
Goethe  as  inspiring  the  sepulchral  monuments  of  Athens. 

"The  wind,"  he  says,  "which  blows  from  the  tombs  of 
the  ancients  comes  with  gentle  breath  as  over  a  mound 
of  roses.  The  rehefs  are  touching  and  pathetic,  and  always 
represent  Hfe.  There  stand  father  and  mother,  their 
son  between  them,  gazing  at  one  another  with  unspeakable 
truth  to  nature.  Here  a  pair  clasp  hands.  Here  a  father 
seems  to  rest  on  his  couch  and  wait  to  be  entertained 
by  his  family.  To  me  the  presence  of  these  scenes  was 
very  touching.  Their  art  is  of  a  late  period,  yet  are  they 
simple,  natural,  and  of  universal  interest.  Here  there  is 
no  knight  in  harness  on  his  knees  awaiting  a  joyful 
resurrection.  The  artist  has  with  more  or  less  skill  pre- 
sented to  us  only  the  persons  themselves,  and  so  made 
their  existence  lasting  and  perpetual.  They  fold  not  their 
hands,  gaze  not  into  heaven;  they  are  on  earth,  what 
they  were  and  what  they  are.  They  stand  side  by  side, 
take  interest  in  one  another;  and  that  is  what  is  in  the 
stone,  even  though  somewhat  unskilfully,  yet  most  pleasingly 
depicted."^ 

As  a  further  illustration  of  the  same  point  an  epitaph 
may  be  quoted  equally  striking  for  its  simple  human 
feeling  and  for  its  absence  of  any  suggestion  of  a  conti- 
nuance of  the  life  of  the  dead.  "  Farewell"  is  the  first 
and    last  word;  no  hint  of  a  "joyful  resurrection." 

"  Farewell,  tomb  of  Melite ;  the  best  of  women  lies 
here,  who  loved  her  loving  husband,  Onesimus ;  thou  wert 
most    excellent,     wherefore   he  longs   for   thee    after    thy 

'From  Goethe's  "  Italienische  Reise."  I  take  this  translation  (by 
permission)  from  Percy  Gardner's  "  New  Chapters  in  Greek  History", 
p.  319. 

4 


38  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

death,  for  thou  wert  the  best  of  wives.— Farewell,  thou 
too,  dearest  husband,  only  love  my  children."^ 

But  however  characteristic  this  attitude  of  the  Greeks 
may  appear  to  be,  especially  by  contrast  with  the  Christian 
view,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  was  the 
only  one  with  which  they  were  acquainted,  or  that  they 
had  put  aside  altogether,  as  indifierent  or  insoluble,  the 
whole  problem  of  a  future  world.  As  we  have  seen,  they 
did  beheve  in  the  survival  of  the  spirit,  and  in  a  world 
of  shades  ruled  by  Pluto  and  Persephone.  They  had 
legends  of  a  place  of  bliss  for  the  good  and  a  place  of 
torment  for  the  wicked ;  and  if  this  conception  did  not 
haunt  their  mind,  as  it  haunted  that  of  the  mediaeval 
Christian,  yet  at  times  it  was  certainly  present  to  them, 
with  terror  or  with  hope.  That  the  Greek  was  not 
unacquainted  with  the  fear  of  hell  we  know  from  the 
passage  of  Plato,  part  of  which  we  have  already  quoted, 
where  in  speaking  of  the  mendicant  prophets  who 
professed  to  make  atonement  for  sin  he  says  that  their 
ministrations  "  are  equally  at  the  service  of  the  living  and 
the  dead ;  the  latter  sort  they  call  mysteries,  and  they  re- 
deem us  from  the  pains  of  hell,  but  if  we  neglect  them 
no  one  knows  what  awaits  us."*  And  on  the  other  hand 
we  hear,  as  early  as  the  date  of  the  Odyssey,  of  the  Elysian 
fields  reserved  for  the  souls  of  the  favourites  of  the  gods. 

The  Greeks,  then,  were  not  without  hope  and  fear 
conceminor  the  worid  to  come,  however  little  these 
feeUngs  may  have  coloured  their  daily  life;  and  there 
was  one  phase  of  their  religion,  which  appears  to  have 
been    specially    occupied    with    this    theme.      In    almost 

'Percy    Gardner.     "New  Chapters  in  Greek  History,"  p.   325. 
•  Plato,  Rep.   n.  364  e. — ^Jowett's  translation. 


THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  DEATH  AND  A  FUTURE  LIFE  39 

every  Greek  city  we  hear  of  "  mysteries",  the  most  cele- 
brated being,  of  course,  those  of  Eleusis  in  Attica.  What 
exactly  these  "mysteries"  were  we  are  very  imperfectly 
informed;  but  so  much,  at  least,  is  clear  that  by  means 
of  a  scenic  symbolism,  representing  the  myth  of  Demeter 
and  Kore  or  of  Dionysus  Zagreus,  hopes  were  held  out  to 
the  initiated  not  only  of  a  happy  life  on  earth,  but  of 
a  happy  immortality  beyond.  "  Blessed,"  says  Pindar, 
"  blessed  is  he  who  has  seen  these  things  before  he  goes 
under  the  hollow  earth.  He  knows  the  end  of  life,  and 
he  knows  its  god-given  origin."  And  it  is  presumably 
to  the  initiated  that  the  same  poet  promises  the  joys  of 
his  thoroughly  Greek  heaven.  "  For  them,"  he  says, 
"  shineth  below  the  strength  of  the  sun  while  in  our 
world  it  is  night,  and  the  space  of  crimson- flowered 
meadows  before  their  city  is  full  of  the  shade  of  frank- 
incense-trees, and  of  fruits  of  gold.  And  some  in  horses, 
and  in  bodily  feats,  and  some  in  dice,  and  some  in  harp- 
playing  have  delight;  and  among  them  thriveth  all  fair- 
flowering  bliss;  and  fragrance  streameth  ever  through  the 
lovely  land,  as  they  mingle  incense  of  every  kind  upon 
the  altars  of  the  gods."  ^ 

The  Greeks,  then,  were  not  unfamiliar  with  the  conception 
of  heaven  and  hell:  only,  and  that  is  the  point  to  which 
we  must  return  and  on  which  we  must  insist,  the  con- 
ception did  not  dominate  and  obsess  their  mind.  They 
may  have  had  their  spasms  of  terror,  but  these  they  could 
easily  relieve  by  the  performance  of  some  atoning  ceremony; 
they  may  have  had  their  thrills  of  hope,  but  these  they 
would  only   indulge  at  the  crisis  of  some  imposing  ritual. 

*Piudar,  Thren.  I,-~  Translation  by  E.  Myers. 


40  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

The  general  tenor  of  their  life  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  allected  by  speculations  about  the  world  beyond. 
Of  age  indeed  and  of  death  they  had  a  horror  pro- 
portional to  their  acute  and  sensitive  enjoyment  of  life; 
but  their  natural  impulse  was  to  turn  for  consolation  to 
the  interests  and  achievements  of  the  world  they  knew, 
and  to  endeavour  to  soothe,  by  memories  and  hopes  of 
deeds  future  and  past,  the  inevitable  pains  of  failure  and 
decay. 

§12.   Critical  and  Sceptical  Opinio?i  in   Greece. 

And  now  let  us  turn  to  a  point  for  which  perhaps 
some  readers  have  long  been  waiting,  and  with  which  they 
may  have  expected  us  to  begin  rather  than  to  end.  So  far,  in 
considering  the  part  played  by  religion  in  Greek  Life,  we  have 
assumed  the  position  of  orthodoxy.  We  have  endeavoured 
to  place  ourselves  at  the  standpoint  of  the  man  who  did  not 
ciiticise  or  reflect,  but  accepted  simply,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  the  tradition  handed  down  to  him  by  his  fathers. 
Only  so,  if  at  all,  was  it  possible  for  us  to  detach  ourselves 
from  our  habitual  preconceptions,  and  to  regard  the 
pagan  mythology  not  as  a  graceful  invention  of  the  poets, 
but  as  a  serious  and,  at  the  time,  a  natural  and  inevit- 
able way  of  looking  at  the  world.  Now,  however,  it  is 
time  to  turn  to  the  other  side,  and  to  consider  the  Greek 
religion  as  it  appeared  to  contemporary  critics.  For 
critics  there  were,  and  sceptics,  or  rather,  to  put  it  more 
exactly,  there  was  a  critical  age  succeeding  an  age  of 
faith.  As  we  trace,  however  imperfectly,  the  development 
of  the  Greek  mind,  we  can  observe  their  intellect  and 
their  moral  sense  expanding  beyond  the  limits  of  their 
creed.     Either  as  sympathetic,  though  candid,  friends,  or 


CRITICAL  AND   SCEPTICAL  OPINION   IN   GREECE      41 

as  avowed  enemies,  they  bring  to  light  its  contradictions 
and  defects;  and  as  a  result  of  the  process  one  of  two 
things  happens.  Either  the  ancient  conception  of  the 
gods  is  transformed  in  the  direction  of  monotheism,  or  it 
is  altogether  swept  away,  and  a  new  system  of  the  world 
built  up,  on  the  basis  of  natural  science  or  of  philosophy. 
These  tendencies  of  thought  we  must  now  endeavour  to 
trace;  for  we  should  have  formed  but  an  imperfect  idea 
of  the  scope  of  the  religious  consciousness  of  the  Greeks 
if  we  confined  ourselves  to  what  we  may  call  their  ortho- 
dox faith.  It  is  in  their  most  critical  tliinkers,  in  Euripides 
and  Plato,  that  the  religious  sense  is  most  fully  and  keenly 
developed;  and  it  is  in  the  philosophy  that  supervened 
upon  the  popular  creed,  rather  than  in  the  popular  creed 
itself,  tliat  we  shall  find  the  highest  and  most  spiritual 
reaches  of  their  thought. 

Let  us  endeavour,  then,  in  the  first  place  to  realise  to 
ourselves  how  the  Greek  religion  must  have  appeared  to 
one  who  approached  it  not  from  the  side  of  unthinking 
acquiescence,  but  with  the  idea  of  discovering  for  himself 
how  far  it  really  met  the  needs  and  claims  of  the  intellect 
and  the  moral  sense.  Let  us  imagine  him  turning  to  his 
Homer,  to  those  poems  which  were  the  Bible  of  the  Greek, 
his  ultimate  appeal  both  in  religion  and  in  ethics;  which 
were  taught  in  the  schools,  quoted  in  the  law-courts, 
recited  in  the  streets;  and  from  which  the  teacher  drew 
his  moral  instances,  the  rhetorician  his  allusions,  the  artist 
his  models,  every  man  his  conception  of  the  gods.  Let 
us  imagine  some  candid  and  ingenuous  youth,  turning  to 
his  Homer  and  repeating,  say,  the  followiiig  passage  of 
the  Iliad:— 

"Among   the   other  gods  fell  grievous  bitter  strife,  and 


42  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

their  hearts  were  carried  diverse  in  their  breasts.  And  they 
clashed  together  with  a  great  noise,  and  the  wide  earth 
groaned,  and  the  clarion  of  great  Heaven  rang  around. 
Zeus  heard  as  he  sate  upon  Olympus,  and  his  heart  within 
him  laughed  pleasantly  when  he  beheld  that  strife  of  the 
gods."  ^ 

At  this  point,  let  us  suppose,  the  reader  pauses  to  re- 
flect; and  is  struck,  for  the  first  time,  with  a  shock  of 
surprise  by  the  fact  that  the  gods  should  be  not  only  many 
but  opposed ;  and  opposed  on  what  issue  ?  a  purely  human 
one!  a  war  between  Greeks  and  Trojans  for  the  possession  of 
a  beautiful  woman !  Into  such  a  contest  the  immortal  gods 
descend,  fight  with  human  weapons,  and  dispute  in  human 
terms !  Where  is  the  single  purpose  that  should  mark  the 
divine  will  ?  where  the  repose  of  the  wisdom  that  fore- 
ordained and  knows  the  end  ?  Not,  it  is  clear,  in  this 
modey  array  of  capricious  and  passionate  wills !  Then, 
perhaps,  in  Zeus,  Zeus,  who  is  lord  of  all  ?  He,  at  least, 
will  impose  upon  this  mob  of  recalcitrant  deities  the  harmony 
which  the  pious  soul  demands.  He,  whose  rod  shakes 
the  sky,  will  arise  and  assert  the  law.  He,  in  his  majesty, 
will  speak  the  words — alas!  what  words!  Let  us  take 
them  straight  from  the  lips  of  the  King  of  gods  and  men: — 

"Hearken  to  me,  all  gods  and  all  ye  goddesses,  that  I 
may  tell  you  that  my  heart  within  my  breast  commandeth 
me.  One  thing  let  none  essay,  be  it  goddess  or  be  it  god, 
to  wit,  to  thwart  my  saying;  approve  ye  it  all  together, 
that  with  all  speed  I  may  accomplish  these  things. 
Whomsoever  I  shall  perceive  minded  to  go,  apart  from 
the  gods,  to  succour  Trojans  or  Danaans,  chastened  in 
no  seemly  wise  shall  he  return  to  Olympus,  or  I  will  take 
'Iliad  xxi.  385. — Translated  by  Lang,  I^af  and  Myers, 


CRITICAL   AND   SCEPTICAL  OPINION  IN   GREECE      43 

and  cast  him  into  misty  Tartaros,  right  far  away,  where 
ts  the  deepest  gulf  beneath  the  earth;  there  are  the  gate 
of  iron  and  threshold  of  bronze,  as  far  beneath  Hades  as 
heaven  is  high  above  the  earth:  then  shall  ye  know  how 
far  I  am  mightiest  of  all  gods.  Go  to  now,  ye  gods,  make 
trial  that  ye  all  may  know.  Fasten  ye  a  rope  of  gold 
from  heaven,  and  all  ye  gods  lay  hold  thereof  and  all 
goddesses;  yet  could  ye  not  drag  from  heaven  to  earth 
Zeus,  counsellor  supreme,  not  though  ye  toiled  sore.  But 
once  I  likewise  were  minded  to  draw  with  all  my  heart, 
then  should  I  draw  ye  up  with  very  earth  and  sea  withal. 
Thereafter  would  I  bind  the  rope  about  a  pinnacle  of 
Olympus,  and  so  should  all  those  things  be  hung  in  air. 
By  so  much  am  I  beyond  gods  and  beyond  men."* 

And  is  that  all  ?  In  the  divine  tug  of  war  Zeus  is  more 
than  a  match  for  all  the  other  gods  together!  Is  it  on 
this  that  the  lordship  of  heaven  and  earth  depends  ?  This 
that  we  are  to  worship  as  highest,  we  of  the  brain  and 
heart  and  soul?  And  even  so,  even  admitting  the  ground 
of  supremacy,  with  what  providence  or  consistency  of  purpose 
is  it  exercised  ?  Why,  Zeus  himself  is  as  capricious  as  the 
rest!  Because  Thetis  comes  whining  to  him  about  an  insult 
put  upon  Achilles,  he  interferes  to  change  the  whole  course 
of  the  war,  and  that  too  by  means  of  a  lying  dream! 
Even  his  own  direct  decrees  he  can  hardly  be  induced  to 
observe.  His  son  Sarpedon,  for  example,  who  is  "fated,"  as 
he  says  himself,  to  die,  he  is  yet  at  the  last  moment  in  half 
a  mind  to  save  alive!  How  is  such  division  possible  in 
the  will  of  the  supreme  god?  Or  is  the  "fate"  of  which 
he    speaks   sr^mething    outsids    himself?    But   if   so,  then 

*Iliad  viii.     ^. — Translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers. 


44  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

above  him!  and  if  above  him,  what  is  he?  Not,  after 
all,  the  highest,  not  the  supreme  at  all!  What  then  an 
we  to  worship?     What  is  this  higher  "fate?" 

Such  would  be  the  kind  of  questions  that  would  vex 
our  candid  youth  when  he  approached  his  Homer  from 
the  side  of  theology.  Nor  would  he  fare  any  better  if 
he  took  the  ethical  point  of  view.  The  gods,  he  would 
find,  who  should  surely  at  least  attain  to  the  human 
standard,  not  only  are  capable  of  every  phase  of  passion, 
anger,  fear,  jealousy  and,  above  all,  love,  but  indulge  them 
all  with  a  verve  and  an  abandonment  that  might  make 
the  boldest  libertine  pause.  Zeus  himself,  for  example, 
expends  upon  the  mere  catalogue  of  his  amours  a  good 
twelve  lines  of  hexameter  verse.  No  wonder  that  Kera 
is  jealous,  and  that  her  lord  is  driven  to  put  her  down 
in   terms   better  suited  to   the  lips  of  mortal  husbands: — 

"  Lady,  ever  art  thou  imagining,  nor  can  I  escape  thee ; 
yet  shalt  thou  in  no  wise  have  power  to  fulfil,  but  wilt 
be  the  further  from  my  heart;  that  shall  be  even  the  worse 
for  thee.  Hide  thou  in  silence  and  hearken  to  my  bidding, 
lest  all  the  gods  that  are  in  Olympus  keep  not  off  from 
thee  my  visitation,  when  I  put  forth  my  hands  unapproachable 
against  thee."' 

§  I  J.  Ethical  Criticism. 

The  incongruity  of  all  this  with  any  adequate  conception 
of  deity  is  patent,  if  once  the  critical  attitude  be  adopted; 
and  it  was  adopted  by  some  of  the  clearest  and  most 
religious  minds  of  Greece.  Nay,  even  orthodoxy  itself 
did  not  refrain  from  a  genial  and  sympathetic  criticism. 
Aristophanes,  for  example,  who,  if  there  had  been  an 
» Iliad  i.   560. — Translated  by  Leaf,  Lang  and  Myers. 


ETHICAL  CRITICISM  45 

established  church,  would  certainly  have  been  described 
as  one  of  its  main  pillars,  does  not  scruple  to  represent 
his  Birds  as  issuing — 

"  A  warning  and  notices,  formally  given. 
To  Jove,  and  all  others  residing  in  heaven, 
Forbidding  them  ever  to  venture  again 
To    trespass  on  our  atmospheric  domain, 
With  scandalous  journeys,  to  ^^sit  a  list 
Of  Alcmenas  and  Semeles;  if  they  persist, 
"We  warn  them  that  means  will  be  taken  moreover 
To  stop  their  gallanting  and  acting  the  lover,"* 

and  Heracles  the  glutton,  and  Dionysus,  the  dandy  and 
the  coward,  are  familiar  figures  of  his  comic  stage. 

The  attitude  of  Aristophanes,  it  is  tnie,  is  not  really 
critical,  but  sympathetic;  it  was  no  more  his  intention  to 
injure  the  popular  creed  by  his  fun  than  it  is  the  intention 
of  the  cartoons  of  Punch  to  undermine  the  reputation  of 
our  leading  statesmen.  On  the  contrary,  nothing  popu- 
larises like  genial  ridicule;  and  of  this  Aristophanes  was 
well  aware.  But  the  same  characteristics  of  the  godr 
which  suggested  the  friendly  burlesque  of  the  comedian 
were  also  those  which  provoked  the  indignation  and  the 
disgust  of  more  serious  minds.  The  poet  Pindar,  for 
example,  after  referring  to  the  story  of  a  battle,  in  which 
it  was  said  gods  had  fought  against  gods,  breaks  out  into 
protest  against  a  legend  so  httle  creditable  to  the  divine 
nature : — "  O  my  mouth,  fling  this  tale  from  thee,  for  to 
speak  evil  of  gods  is  a  hateful  wisdom,  and  loud  and 
unmeasured    words    strike    a    note    that   trembleth    upon 

^  Aristophanes,  "  Birds  "  556. — Translation  by  Frere. 


46  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

madness.  Of  such  things  talk  thou  not;  leave  war  and 
all  strife  of  immortals  aside."  ^  And  the  same  note  is 
taken  up  with  emphasis,  and  reiterated  in  every  quality 
of  tone,  by  such  writers  as  Euripides  and  Plato. 

The  attitude  of  Euripides  towards  the  popular  religion 
is  so  clearly  and  frankly  critical  that  a  recent  writer  has 
even  gone  so  far  as  to  maintain  that  his  main  object  in  the 
construction  of  his  dramas  was  to  discredit  the  myths  he 
selected  for  his  theme.  However  that  may  have  been,  it 
is  beyond  controversy  true  that  the  deep  religious  sense 
of  this  most  modern  of  the  Greeks  was  puzzled  and 
repelled  by  the  tales  he  was  bound  by  tradition  to  drama- 
tize; and  that  he  put  into  the  mouth  of  his  characters 
reflexions  upon  the  conduct  of  the  gods  which  if  they 
may  not  be  taken  as  his  own  deliberate  opinions,  are 
at  least  expressions  of  one  aspect  of  his  thought.  It  was, 
in  fact,  impossible  to  reconcile  with  a  profound  and 
philosophic  view  of  the  divine  nature  the  intrigues  and 
amours,  partialities,  antipathies,  actions  and  counter-actions 
of  these  anthropomorphic  deities.  Consider,  for  example, 
the  most  famous  of  all  the  myths,  that  of  Orestes,  to 
which  we  have  already  referred.  Orestes,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, was  the  son  of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnes- 
tra.  Agamemnon,  on  his  return  from  Troy,  was  murdered 
by  Clytemnestra.  Orestes  escapes;  but  returns  later,  at 
the  instigation  of  Apollo,  and  kills  his  mother  to  avenge 
his  father.  Thereupon,  in  punishment  for  his  crime,  he 
is  persecuted  by  the  Furies.  Now  the  point  which 
Euripides  seizes  here  is  the  conduct  of  Apollo.  Either 
it  was  right  for  Orestes  to  kill  his  mother,  or  it  was  wrong. 
If  wrong,   why   did    Apollo   command    it?     If  right,   why 

'Find.  01.  IX    54.— Translation  by  E.  Myers. 


ETHICAL    CRITICISM  47 

was  Orestes  punished  ?  Or  are  there,  as  -^schylus  would 
have  it,  two  "  rights",  one  of  Apollo,  the  other  of  the 
Furies  ?  If  so,  what  becomes  of  that  unity  of  the  divine 
law  after  which  every  religious  nature  seeks?  "  Phoebus," 
cries  the  Orestes  of  Euripides,  "  prophet  though  he  be, 
deceived  me.  I  gave  him  my  all,  I  killed  my  mother  in 
obedience  to  his  command ;  and  in  return  I  am  undone 
myself."^  The  dilemma  is  patent;  and  Euripides  makes 
no  serious  attempt  to  meet  it. 

Or  again,  to  take  another  example,  less  familiar,  but 
even  more  to  the  point — the  tale  of  Ion  and  Creusa. 
Creusa  has  been  seduced  by  Apollo  and  has  borne  him  a 
child,  the  Ion  of  the  story.  This  child  she  exposes,  and 
it  is  conveyed  by  Hermes  to  Delphi,  where  at  last  it  is 
found,  and  recognised  by  the  mother,  and  a  conventionally 
happy  ending  is  patched  up.  But  the  point  on  which 
the  poet  has  insisted  throughout  is,  once  more,  the  conduct 
of  Apollo.  What  is  to  be  made  of  a  god  who  seduces 
and  deserts  a  mortal  woman;  who  suffers  her  to  expose 
her  child,  and  leaves  her  in  ignorance  of  its  fate  ?  Does  he 
not  deserve  the  reproaches  heaped  upon  him  by  his  victim? — 

"Child  of  Latona,  I  cry  to  the   sun — I  will  publish 

thy  shame! 
Thou  with  thy  tresses  a-shimmer  with  gold,  through  the 

flowers  as  I  came 
Plucking  the  crocuses,  heaping  my  veil  with  their  gold- 

litten  flame, 
Cam'st  on  me,  caughtest  the  poor  pallid  wrists  of  mine 

hands,  and  didst  hale 
Unto  thy  couch  in  the  cave.     'Mother!  mother!'     I 

shrieked  out  my  v^ail — 

'  jLuripides,  Iph.   Taur.  711, 


48  THE   GREEK    VIEW   OF  LIFE 

Wroughtest  the  pleasure  of  Kypris;  no  shame  made  the 

god-lover  quail. 
Wretched  I  bare  thee  a  child,  and  I  cast  him  with 

shuddering  throe 
Forth  on  thy  couch  where  thou  forccdst  tliy  victim,  a 

bride-bed  of  woe. 
Lost — my   poor  baby  and  thine!  for  the  eagles  devoured 

him  :  and  lo  ! 
Victory-songs  to  thy  lyre  dost  thou  chant! — Ho,  I 

call  to  thee,  son 
Born  to  Latuna,  Dispenser  of  boding,  on  gold-gleaming 

throne 
Midmost  of  earth  who  art  sitting: — thine  ears  shall  be 

pierced  with  my  moan ! 
Thy  Delos  doth  hate  thee,  thy  bay-boughs  abhor  thee, 
By  the  palm-tree  of  feathery  fiondagc  that  rose 
Where  in  sacred  travail  Latona  bore  thee 
In  Zeus's  garden  close." » 

This  is  a  typical  example  of  the  kind  of  critici?m  which 
Euripides  conveys  through  the  lips  of  his  characters  on 
the  stage.  And  the  points  which  he  can  only  dramati- 
cally suggest,  Plato  expounds  directly  in  his  own  person. 
The  quarrel  of  the  philosopher  with  the  myths  is  not  that 
they  are  not  true,  but  that  they  arc  not  edifying.  They 
represent  the  son  in  rebellion  against  the  father — Zeus 
against  Kronos,  Kronos  against  Uranos ;  they  describe  the 
gods  as  intriguing  and  fighting  one  against  the  other;  they 
depict  them  as  changing  their  form  divine  into  the  semblance 
of  mortal  men ;  lastly — culmination  of  horror  I — they  represent 
them  as  laughing,  positively  laughing! — Or  again,  to  turn 
to  a  more  metaphysical  point,  if  God  be  good,  it  is  argued 

»  Euripid.     Ion.     885.— -Translated  by   A.  S.  Way. 


TRANSITION    TO   MONOTHEISM  49 

by  Plato,  he  caiinot  be  the  author  of  evil.  What  then, 
are  we  to  make  of  the  passage  in  Homer  where  he  says, 
"two  urns  stand  upon  the  floor  of  Zeus  filled  with  his 
evil  gifts,  and  one  with  blessings.  To  whomsoever  Zeus 
whose  joy  is  in  the  lightning  dealeth  a  mingled  lot,  that 
man  chanceth  now  upon  ill  and  now  again  on  good,  but 
to  whom  he  giveth  but  of  the  bad  kind,  him  he  bringeth  to 
scorn,  and  evil  famine  chaseth  him  over  the  goodly  earth, 
and  he  is  a  wanderer  honoured  of  neither  gods  nor  men."* 
And  again,  if  God  be  true,  he  cannot  be  the  author  of 
lies.  How  then  could  he  have  sent,  as  we  are  told  he 
did,  lying  dreams  to  men?— Clearly,  concludes  the  phi- 
losopher, our  current  legends  need  revision;  in  the 
interest  of  religion  itself  we  must  destroy  the  myths  of  the 
popular  creed. 

§  j^.   Transition  to  Monotheism. 

The  myths,  but  not  religion!  The  criticism  certainly 
of  Plato  and  probably  of  Euripides  was  prompted  by  the 
desire  not  to  discredit  altogether  the  belief  in  the  gods, 
but  to  bring  it  into  harmony  with  the  requirements  of  a 
more  fully  developed  consciousness.  The  philosopher  and 
the  poet  came  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil;  not  to  annihi- 
late but  to  transform  the  popular  theology.  Such  an 
intention,  strange  as  it  may  appear  to  us  with  our  rigid 
creeds,  we  shall  see  to  be  natural  enough  to  the  Greek 
mind,  when  we  remember  that  the  material  of  their  reli- 
gion was  not  a  set  of  propositions,  but  a  more  or  less 
indeterminate  body  of  traditions  capable  of  being  presented 
in  the  most  various  forms  as  the  genius  and  taste  of 
individual  poets  might  direct.  And  we  find,  in  fact,  tha* 
»I1.     xxiv.     527. — ^Translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers. 


50  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

the  most  religious  poets  of  Greece,  those  even  who  were 
most   innocent   of  any   intention   to   innovate   on  popular 
beliefs,    did   nevertheless  unconsciously  tend  to  transform, 
in    accordance    with    their    own    conceptions,    the    whole 
stmcture    of    the    Homeric    theology.     Taking    over    the 
legends   of   gods   and   heroes,    as    narrated   in  poetry  and 
tradition,  the  earlier  tragedians,  -^schylus  and  Sophocles, 
as  they  shaped  and  reshaped  their  material  for  the  stage, 
were  evolving  for  themselves,  not  in  opposition  to  but  as 
it  were  on  the  top  of  the  polytheistic  view,  the  idea  of  a 
single  supreme  and  righteous  God.     The  Zeus  of  Homer, 
whose  superiority,  as  we  saw,  was  based  on  physical  force, 
grows,  under  the  hands  of  ^schylus,  into  something  akin 
to  the  Jewish  Jehovah.     The  inner  experience  of  the  poet 
drives   him    inevitably   to   this   transformation.     Born   into 
the  great  age  of  Greece,  coming  to  maturity  at  the  crisis 
of   her    fate,    he    had    witnessed   with   his  own  eyes,  and 
assisted  with  his  own  hands  the  defeat  of  the  Persian  host 
at    Marathon.     The    event    struck    home    to    him    like    a 
judgment   from   heaven.     The  Nemesis  that  attends  upon 
human  pride,  the  vengeance  that  follows  crime,  henceforth 
were   the  thoughts  that  haunted  and  possessed  his  brain; 
and   under   their   influence   he   evolved  for  himself  out  of 
the    popular    idea    of   Zeus    the    conception  of  a  God  of 
justice  who  marks  and  avenges  crime.     Read  for  example 
the   following  passage  from  the  "  Agamemnon  "  and  con- 
trast   it    with    the    lines    of   Homer    quoted    on  page  42. 
Nothing  could  illustrate  more  strikingly  the  transformation 
that  could  be  effected,  under  the  conditions  of  the  Greek 
religion,    in  the  whole  conception  of  the  divine  power  by 
one   whose   conscious   intention,    nevertheless,    was  not  to 
innovate  but  to  conserve. 


TRANSITION    TO  MONOTHEISM  51 

"Zeus  the  high  God!  Whate'er  be  dim  in  doubt, 

This  can  our  thought  track  out — 
The  blow  that  fells   the  sinner  is  of  God, 

And  as  he  wills,  the  rod 
Of  vengeance  smiteth  sore.     One  said  of  old 

'The  Gods  list  not  to  hold 
A  reckoning  with  him  whose  feet  oppress 

The  grace  of  holiness' — 
An  impious  word!  for  whensoe'er  tlie  sire 

Breathed  forth  rebellious  fire — 
What  time  his  household  overflows  the  measure 

Of  bliss  and  health  and  treasure — 

His  children's  children  read  the  reckoning  plain, 

At  last,  in  tears  and  pain. 

%  *  >ii  *  * 

Who  spurns  the  shrine  of  Right,  nor  wealth  nor  poweK 

Shall  be  to  him  a  tower, 
To  guard  him  from  the  gulf:  there  lies  his  lot. 

Where  all  tilings  are  forgot. 
Lust  drives  him  on — lust,  desperate  and  wild 

Fate's  sin-contriving  child — 
And  cure  is  none;  beyond  concealment  clear 

Kindles  sin's  baleful  glare. 
As  an  ill  coin  beneath  the  wearing  touch 

Betrays  by  stain  and  smutch 
Its  metal  false — such  is  the  sinful  wight. 

Before,  on  pinions  light. 
Fair  pleasure  flits,  and  lures  him  childlike  on, 

While  home  and  kin  make  moan 
Beneath  the  grinding  burden  of  his  crime; 

Till,  in  the  end  of  time. 
Cast  down  of  heaven,  he  pours  forth  fruitless  prayer 

To  powers  that  will  not  hear."  * 

'  ^sch.  Agamem.  367. — Translated  by  E.  D.  A.  Morshcad  ("The 
House  of  Atreus"). 


52  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

And  Sophocles  follows  in  the  same  path.  For  him  too 
Zeus  is  no  longer  the  god  of  physical  strength;  he  is  the 
creator  and  sustainer  of  the  moral  law— of  "those  laws  of 
range  sublime,  called  into  life  throughout  the  high  clear 
heaven,  whose  father  is  Olympus  alone;  their  parent  was 
no  race  of  mortal  men,  no,  nor  shall  oblivion  ever  lay 
them  to  sleep;  a  mighty  god  is  in  them,  and  he  grows 
not  old."  ^  Such  words  imply  a  complete  transformation 
of  the  Homeric  conception  of  Divinity;  a  transformation 
made  indeed  in  the  interests  of  religion,  but  involving 
nevertheless,  and  contrary,  no  doubt,  to  the  intention  of 
its  authors,  a  complete  subversion  of  the  popular  creed. 
Once  grant  the  idea  of  God  as  an  eternal  and  moral  Power 
and  the  whole  fabric  of  polytheism  falls  away.  The  religion 
of  the  Greeks,  as  interpreted  by  their  best  minds,  annihi- 
lates itself  Zeus  indeed  is  saved,  but  only  at  the  cost 
of  all  Olympus. 

§  75.  Metaphysical  Criticism, 

While  thus,  on  the  one  hand,  the  Greek  religion  by  its 
inner  evolution,  was  tending  to  destroy  itself,  on  the  other 
hand  it  was  threatened  from  without  by  the  attack  of 
what  we  should  call  the  "scientific  spirit."  A  system  so 
frankly  anthropomorphic  was  bound  to  be  weak  on  the 
speculative  side.  Its  appeal,  as  we  have  seen,  was  rather 
to  the  imagination  than  to  the  intellect,  by  the  presentation 
of  a  series  of  beautiful  images,  whose  contemplation  might 
offer  to  the  mind  if  not  satisfaction,  at  least  acquiescence 
and  repose.  A  Greek  who  was  not  too  inquisitive  was 
thus  enabled  to  move  through  the  calendar  of  splendid 
festivals   and   fasts,   charmed  by   the  beauty  of  the  ritual, 

'  Soph.  O.  T.  865.— Translated  by  Dr.  Jebb. 


METAPHYSICAL   CRITICISM  53 

inspired  by  the  chorus  and  the  dance,  and  drawing  from 
the  famihar  legends  the  moral  and  aesthetic  significance 
with  which  he  had  been  accustomed  from  his  boyhood  to 
connect  them,  but  without  ever  raising  the  question,  Is 
all  this  true?  Does  it  really  account  for  the  existence 
and  nature  of  the  world?  Once,  however,  the  spell  was 
broken,  once  the  intellect  was  aroused,  the  inadequacy 
of  the  popular  faith,  on  the  speculative  side,  became 
apparent ;  and  the  mind  turned  aside  altogether  from 
religion  to  work  out  its  problems  on  its  own  lines.  We 
find  accordingly,  from  early  times,  physical  philosophers  in 
Greece  free  from  all  theological  preconceptions,  raising  from 
the  very  beginning  the  question  of  the  origin  of  the  world, 
and  offering  solutions,  various  indeed  but  all  alike  in  this, 
that  they  frankly  accept  a  materialistic  basis.  One  derives 
all  things  from  water,  another  from  air,  another  from  fire; 
one  insists  upon  unity,  another  on  a  plurality  of  elements ; 
but  all  alike  reject  the  supernatural,  and  proceed  on  the 
lines  of  physical  causation. 

The  opposition,  to  use  the  modem  phrase,  between 
science  and  religion,  was  thus  developed  early  in  ancient 
Greece;  and  by  the  fifth  century  it  is  clear  that  it  had 
become  acute.  The  philosopher  Anaxagoras  was  driven 
from  Athens  as  an  atheist;  the  same  charge,  absurdly 
enough,  was  one  of  the  counts  in  the  indictment  of 
Socrates;  and  the  physical  speculations  of  the  time  are 
a  favourite  butt  of  that  champion  of  orthodoxy,  Aristo- 
phanes. To  follow  up  these  speculations  in  detail  would 
be  to  wander  too  far  from  our  present  puq)ose;  but  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  quote  a  passage  from  the  great 
comedian,  to  illustrate  not  indeed  the  value  of  the  theories 
ridiculed,    but   their   generally   materialistic   character,  and 

5 


54  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

their  antagonism  to  the  popular  faith.  The  passage 
selected  is  part  of  a  dialogue  between  Socrates  and 
Strepsiades,  one  of  his  pupils ;  and  it  is  introduced  by  an 
address  from  the  chorus  of  "  Clouds",  the  new  divinities 
of  the  physicist: 

CnoRUS  OF  Clouds. 

Our  welcome  to  thee,  old  man,  who  would  see  the  marvels  that 

science  can  show  : 
And  thou,  the  high-priest  of  this  subtlety  feast,   say  what   would 

you  have  us  bestow  ? 
Since    there    is    not    a  sage  for  whom  we'd  engage  our  wonders 

more  freely  to  do, 
Except,  it  may  be,  for  Prodicus :  he  for  his  knowledge  may  claim 

them,  but  you, 
Because  as  you  go,  you  glance  to  and  fro,  and  in  dignified  arro- 
gance float; 
And    think    shoes    a    disgrace,    and    put    on    a    grave   face,    your 

acquaintance   with  us  to  denote. 
Strepsiades. 

Oh    earth !    what   a  sound,  how  august  and  profound !  it  fills  me 

with  wonder  and  awe. 
Socrates. 

These,    these    then    alone,    for  true  Deities  own,  the  rest  are  all 

God-ships  of  straw. 
Streps. 

Let  Zeus  be  left  out:  He's  a  God  beyond  doubt;  come,  that  you 

can  scarcely  deny. 
SOCR. 

Zeus  indeed!  there's  no  Zeus:  don't  you  be  so  obtuse. 
Streps.  No  Zeus  up  above  in  the  sky? 

Then   you  first  must  explain,  who  it  is  sends  the  rain ;  or  I  really 

must  think  you  are  wrong. 
SoCR. 

Well  then,  be  it  known,  these  send  it  alone:  I  can  prove  it  by 

argument  strong. 


METAPHYSICAL  CRITICISM  5^ 

"Was   there   ever  a   shower  seen  to  fall  in  an  hour  when  the  sky 

was  all  cloudless  and  blue? 
Yet    on   a    fine   day,    when    the    clouds  are  away,  he  might  send 

one,  according  to  you. 
Streps. 

Well,    it   must   be  confessed,  that  chimes  in  with  the  rest:  your 

words  I  am  forced  to  believe. 
Yet    before    I    had    dreamed    tliat    the    rain-water  streamed  from 

Zeus  and  his  chamber-pot  sieve. 
But    whence    then,    my    friend,    does  the  thunder  descend  ?   that 

does  make  us  quake  with  affright! 
SocR. 

Why,   'tis  they,  I  declare,  as  they  roll  through  the  air. 
Streps. 

What  the   clouds  ?  did  I  hear  you  aright  ? 
SoCR. 

Ay :    for    when    to    the    brim    filled    with    water    they  swim,  by 

Necessity   carried  along. 
They    are    hung    up  on  high  in   the   vault  of  the  sky,  and  so  by 

Necessity  strong 
In    the    midst    of   their    course,  they  clash  with  great  force,  and 

thunder  away  without  end. 
Streps. 

But    is    it   not    He   who  compels  this  to  be  ?  does  not  Zeus  this 

Necessity  send? 
SocR. 

No   Zeus  have  we   there,  but  a  vortex  of  air. 
Streps.  What !  Vortex  ?  that's  something  I  own. 

I    knew    not    before,    that  Zeus    was    no    more,  but  Vortex  was 

placed  on  his   throne! 
But   I  have  not  yet  heard  to  what  cause   you  referred  the  thun- 
der's majestical  roar. 
SocR. 

Yes,  'tis  they,   when  on  high  full  of  water  they  fly,  and  then,  af 

I  told  you  before, 


5  6  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

By  compression  impelled,    as  they  clash,  are  compelled  a  terrible 

clatter  to  make. 
Streps. 

Come,  how  can  that  be?     I  really  don't  see. 
SocR.  Yourself  as  my  proof  I  will  take. 

Have    you  never  then  ate  the   broth  puddings  you  get  when   the 

Panathenaea  come  round, 
And    felt    with   what   might    your   bowels    all    night  in   turbulent 

tumult  resound 
Streps. 

By  Apollo,  'tis  true,  there's  a  mighty  to  do,   and  my  belly  keeps 

rumbling  about; 
And  the  puddings  begin  to  clatter  within  and  to  kick  up  a  won- 
derful rout: 
Quite    gently    at    first,    papapax,  papapax,  but  soon  papappappax 

away. 
Till    at    last,    I'll   be   bound,  I  can  thunder  as   loud  papapappap- 

pappappax  as  they. 
SocR. 

Shalt   thou   then  c,   sound    so    loud  and   profound  from  thy   belly 

diminutive  send. 
And    shall    not    the    high  and  the  infinite  sky  go  thundering  on 

without  end? 
For  both,   you  will  find,  on  an  impulse  of  wind  and  similar  causes 

depend. 
Streps. 

Well,  but  tell  me  from  whom  comes  the  bolt  through  the  gloom, 

with  its  awful  and   terrible  flashes; 
And    wherever    it    turns,  some   it  singes  and   burns,    and  some  it 

reduces  to  ashes : 
For    this    'tis    quite  plain,  let  who  will  send  the  rain,  that  Zeus 

against  peijurers  dashes 
Socr.. 

And   how,  you    old    fool,  of  a  dark-ages  school,  and  an  antidilu- 

vian  wit, 


METAPHYSICAL  CRITICISM  57 

If    the    perjured    they    strike,    and    not    all  men  alike,  have  they 

never  Cleonymus  hit? 
Then  of  Simon  again,   and  Theorus  explain  :  known  perjurers,  yet 

they  escape. 
But    he    smites    his    own    shrine    with    these    arrows  divine,  and 

"Sunium,  Attica's  cape," 
And  the  ancient  gnarled  oaks:  now  what  prompted  those  strokes? 

They  never  forswore  I  should  say. 
Streps. 

Can't  say  that  they  do :  your  words  appear  true.  Whence  comes 

then  the  thunderbolt,  pray? 
SoCR. 

When  a  wind  that  is  dry,  being  lifted  on  high,  is  suddenly  pent 

into  these, 
It    swells    up    their    skin,    like  a  bladder,  within,    by  Necessity's 

changeless  decrees: 
Till    compressed    very    tight,   it   bursts    them  outright,  and  awaj 

with  an  impulse  so  strong. 
That    at   last   by  the  force  and  the  swing  of  the  course,  it  takes 

fire  as  it  whizzes  along. 
Streps. 

That's  exactly  the  thing,  that  I  suffered  one  spring,    at  tlie  great 

feast  of  Zeus,  I  admit : 
I'd    a  paunch  in  the  pot,  but  I  wholly  forgot  about    making  the 

safety-valve  slit. 
So   it    spluttered   and    swelled,   while  the  saucepan  I  held,   till  at 

last  with  a  vengeance  it  flew: 
Took  me  quite  by  surprise,  dung-bespattered  my  eyes,  and  scalded 

my  face  black  and  blue  1  * 

Nothing  could   be   more   amusing  than  this  passage  as 

a    burlesque    of   the    physical    theories    of    the  time;  and 

nothing  could  better  illustrate  the  quarrel  between  science 

and    religion,    as    it    presents   itself  on  the  surface  to  the 

'  Aristoph.  "Clouds"  358. — Translation  by  B.  B.  Rogers. 


58  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

plain  man.  But  there  is  more  in  the  quarrel  than  appears 
at  first  sight.  The  real  sting  of  the  comedy  from  which 
we  have  quoted  lies  in  the  assumption,  adopted  throughout 
the  play,  that  the  atheist  is  also  necessarily  anti-social  and 
immoral.  The  physicist,  in  the  person  of  Socrates,  is 
identified  with  the  sophist;  on  the  one  hand  he  is  re- 
presented as  teaching  the  theory  of  material  causation,  on 
the  other  the  art  of  lying  and  deceit.  The  object. of 
Strepsiades  in  attending  the  school  is  to  learn  how  not 
to  pay  his  debts;  the  achievement  of  his  son  is  to  learn 
how  to  dishonour  his  father.  The  cult  of  reason  is  identi- 
fied by  the  poet  with  the  cult  of  self-interest;  the  man 
who  does  not  believe  in  tlie  gods  cannot,  he  implies, 
believe  in  the  family  or  the  state. 

§  i6.  metaphysical  Recofistruction — Plato. 

The  argument  is  an  old  one  into  whose  merits  this 
is  not  the  place  to  enter.  But  one  thing  is  certain,  that 
the  sceptical  spirit  which  was  invading  religion,  was  in- 
vading also  politics  and  ethics ;  and  that  towards  the  close 
of  the  fifth  century  before  Christ,  Greece  and  in  particular 
Athens  was  overrun  by  philosophers,  who  not  only  did  not 
scruple  to  question  the  foundations  of  social  and  moral 
obligation,  but  in  some  cases  explicitly  taught  that  there 
were  no  foundations  at  all ;  that  all  law  was  a  convention 
based  on  no  objective  truth;  and  that  the  only  valid  right 
was  the  natural  right  of  the  strong  to  rule.  It  was  into 
this  chaos  of  sceptical  opinion  that  Plato  was  bom;  and  it 
was  the  desire  to  meet  and  subdue  it  that  was  the  motive 
of  his  philosophy.  Like  Aristophanes,  he  traced  the  root 
of  the  evil  to  the  decay  of  religious  belief;  and  though  no 
one,  as  we  have  seen,  was  more  trenchant  than  he  in  his 


METAPHYSICAL    RECONSTRUCTION— PLATO      59 

criticism  of  the  popular  faith,  no  one,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  more  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  some  form  of  religion 
as  a  basis  for  any  stable  polity.  The  doctrine  of  the  physi- 
cists, he  asserts,  that  the  world  is  the  result  of  "nature 
and  chance "  has  immediate  and  disastrous  effects  on  the 
whole  structure  of  social  beliefs.  The  conclusion  inevitably 
follows  that  human  laws  and  institutions,  like  everything 
else,  are  accidental  products ;  that  they  have  no  objective 
vaHdity,  no  binding  force  on  the  will;  and  that  the  only 
right  that  has  any  intelligible  meaning  is  the  right  which  is 
identical  with  might.  ^  Against  these  conclusions  the  whole 
soul  of  Plato  rose  in  revolt.  To  reconstruct  religion,  he 
was  driven  back  upon  metaphysics;  and  elaborated  at  last 
the  system  which  from  his  day  to  our  own  has  not  ceased 
to  perplex  and  fascinate  the  world,  and  whose  rare  and 
radiant  combination  of  gifts,  speculative,  artistic,  and 
religious,  marks  the  highest  reach  of  the  genius  of  the 
Greeks,  and  perhaps  of  mankind. 

To  attempt  an  analysis  of  that  system  would  lead  us 
far  from  our  present  task.  All  that  concerns  us  here,  is 
its  religious  significance;  and  of  that,  all  we  can  note  is 
that  Plato,  the  deepest  thinker  of  the  Greeks,  was  also 
among  the  farthest  removed  from  the  popular  faith.  The 
principle  from  which  he  derives  the  World  is  the  absolute 
Good,  or  God,  of  whose  ideas  the  phenomena  of  sense 
are  imperfect  copies.  To  the  divine  intelligence  man  by 
virtue  of  his  reason  is  akin.  But  the  reason  in  him  has 
fallen  into  bondage  of  the  flesh ;  and  it  is  the  task  of  his 
life  on  earth,  or  rather  of  a  series  of  lives  (for  Plato  be- 
lieved in  successive  re-incarnations),  to  deliver  this  diviner 
element  of  his  soul,  and  set  it  free  to  re-unite  with  God. 
»See  e^.  Plato's   "Laws".  X.  887. 


6o  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

To  the  description  of  the  divine  life  thus  prepared  for  the 
soul,  from  which  she  fell  but  to  which  she  may  return, 
Plato  has  devoted  some  of  his  finest  passages;  and  if  we 
are  to  indicate,  as  we  are  bound  to  do,  the  highest  point 
to  which  the  religious  consciousness  of  the  Greeks  attained, 
we  must  not  be  deterred,  by  dread  of  the  obscurity  ne- 
cessarily attaching  to  an  extract,  from  a  citation  from  the 
most  impassioned  of  his  dialogues.  Speaking  of  that  "  divine 
madness,"  to  which  we  have  already  had  occasion  to 
refer,  he  says  that  this  is  the  madness  which  "is  imputed 
to  him  who,  when  he  sees  the  beauty  of  earth,  is  transported 
with  the  recollection  of  the  true  beauty;  he  would  hke 
to  fly  away,  but  he  cannot;  he  is  like  a  bird  fluttering 
and  looking  upward  and  careless  of  the  world  below;  and 
he  is  therefore  thought  to  be  mad.  And  I  have  shown 
this  of  all  inspirations  to  be  the  noblest  and  highest 
and  the  off"-spring  of  the  highest  to  him  who  has  or 
shares  in  it,  and  that  he  who  loves  the  beautiful  is 
called  a  lover  because  he  partakes  of  it.  For  every  soul 
of  man  has  in  the  way  of  nature  beheld  true  being ;  this  was 
the  condition  of  her  passing  into  the  form  of  man.  But  all 
souls  do  not  easily  recall  the  things  of  the  other  world; 
they  may  have  seen  them  for  a  short  time  only,  or  they 
may  have  been  unfortunate  in  their  earthly  lot,  and  havmg 
had  their  hearts  turned  to  unrighteousness  through  some 
corrupting  influence,  they  may  have  lost  the  memory  of 
the  holy  things  which  once  they  saw.  Few  only  retain 
an  adequate  remembrance  of  them;  and  they,  when  they 
behold  here  any  image  of  that  other  world,  are  rapt  in 
amazement;  but  they  are  ignorant  of  what  that  rapture 
means,  because  they  do  not  clearly  perceive.  For  there  is  no 
clear  light  of  justice  or  temperance,  or  any  of  the  higher  ideas 


SUMMARY  6 1 

which  are  precious  to  souls,  in  the  earthly  copies  of  them :  they 
are  seen  through  a  glass  dimly;  and  there  are  few  who,  going 
to  the  images,  behold  in  them  the  realities,  and  these  only  with 
difficulty.  There  was  a  time  when,  with  the  rest  of  the  happy 
band,  they  saw  beauty  shining  in  brightness — we  philosophers 
following  in  the  train  of  Zeus,  others  in  company  with  other 
gods ;  and  then  we  beheld  the  beatific  vision  and  were  initiated 
into  a  mystery  which  may  be  truly  called  most  blessed,  cele- 
brated by  us  in  our  state  of  innocence,  before  we  had  any  expe- 
rience of  evils  to  come,  when  we  were  admitted  to  the  sight  of 
apparitions  innocent  and  simple  and  calm  and  happy,  which 
we  beheld  shining  in  pure  light,  pure  ourselves  and  not  yet  en- 
shrined in  that  living  tomb  which  we  carry  about,  now  that  we 
are  imprisoned  in  the  body,  like  an  oyster  in  his  shell.  Let  me 
linger  over  the  memory  of  scenes  which  have  passed  away."  * 

^  ly.  Summary. 

At  this  point,  where  religion  passes  into  philosophy,  the 
discussion  which  has  occupied  the  present  chapter  must 
close.  So  far  it  was  necessary  to  proceed,  in  order  to 
show  how  wide  was  the  range  of  the  religious  conscious- 
ness of  the  Greeks,  and  through  how  many  points  of  view 
it  passed  in  the  course  of  its  evolution.  But  its  development 
was  away  from  the  Greek  and  towards  the  Christian;  and 
it  will  therefore  be  desirable,  in  conclusion,  to  fix  once 
more  in  our  minds  that  central  and  primary  phase  of  the 
Greek  religion  under  the  influence  of  which  their  civilisation 
was  formed  into  a  character  definite  and  distinct  in  the 
history  of  the  world.  This  phase  will  be  the  one  which 
underlay  and  was  reflected  in  the  actual  cult  and  institutions 
of  Greece  and  must  therefore  be  regarded  not  as  a  product 
»  Plato,  Phaedrus.  249d. — Jowett's  translation. 


62  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

of  critical  and  self-conscious  thought,  but  as  an  imaginative 
way  of  conceiving  the  world  stamped  as  it  were  passively 
on  the  mind  by  the  whole  course  of  concrete  experience. 
Of  its  character  we  have  attempted  to  give  some  kind  of 
account  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  chapter,  and  we  have 
now  only  to  summarise  what  was  there  said. 

The  Greek  religion,  then,  as  we  saw,  in  this  its  char- 
acteristic phase,  involved  a  belief  in  a  number  of  deities 
who  on  the  one  hand  were  personifications  of  the  powers 
of  nature  and  of  the  human  soul,  on  the  other  the  founders 
and  sustainers  of  civil  society.  To  the  operations  of  these 
beings  the  whole  of  experience  was  referred,  and  that, 
not  merely  in  an  abstract  and  unintelligible  way,  as  when 
we  say  that  the  world  was  created  by  God,  but  in  a  quite 
precise  and  definite  sense,  the  action  of  the  gods  being 
conceived  to  be  the  same  in  kind  as  that  of  man,  proceeding 
from  similar  motives,  directed  to  similar  ends,  and  accom- 
plished very  largely  by  similar,  though  much  superior  means. 
By  virtue  of  this  uncritical  and  unreflective  mode  of  ap- 
prehension the  Greeks,  we  said,  were  made  at  home  in  the 
world.  Their  religion  suffused  and  transformed  the  facts 
both  of  nature  and  of  society,  interpreting  what  would 
otherwise  have  been  unintelligible  by  the  idea  of  an 
activity  which  they  could  understand  because  it  was 
one  which  they  were  constantly  exercising  themselves. 
Being  thus  supplied  with  a  general  explanation  of  the 
world,  they  could  put  aside  the  question  of  its  origin  and 
end,  and  devote  themselves  freely  and  fully  to  the  art  of 
living,  unhampered  by  scruples  and  doubts  as  to  the  nature 
of  life.  Consciousness  similar  to  their  own  was  the  ulti- 
mate fact;  and  there  was  nothing  therefore  with  which  they 
might  not  form  intelligible  and  harmonious  relations. 


SUMMARY  63 

And  as  on  the  side  of  metaphysics  they  were  delivered 
from  the  perplexities  of  speculation,  so  on  the  side  of 
ethics  they  were  undisturbed  by  the  perplexities  of  con- 
science. Their  religion,  it  is  true,  had  a  bearing  on  theii 
conduct,  but  a  bearing,  as  we  saw,  external  and  mecha- 
nical. If  they  sinned  they  might  be  punished  directly  by 
physical  evil;  and  from  this  evil  religion  might  redeem 
them  by  the  appropriate  ceremonies  of  purgation.  But 
on  the  other  hand  they  were  not  conscious  of  a  spiritual 
relation  to  God,  of  sin  as  an  alienation  from  the  divine 
power  and  repentance  as  the  means  of  restoration  to  grace. 
The  pangs  of  conscience,  the  fears  and  hopes,  the  triumph 
and  despair  of  the  soul  which  were  the  preoccupations  of 
the  Puritan,  were  phenomena  unknown  to  the  ancient  Greek. 
He  lived  and  acted  undisturbed  by  scrupulous  introspection; 
and  the  function  of  his  religion  was  rather  to  quiet  the  con- 
science by  ritual  than  to  excite  it  by  admonition  and  reproof. 

From  both  these  points  of  view,  the  metaphysical  and 
the  ethical,  the  Greeks  were  brought  by  their  religion 
into  harmony  with  the  world.  Neither  the  perplexities  of 
the  intellect  nor  the  scruples  of  the  conscience  intervened 
to  hamper  their  free  activity.  Their  life  was  simple,  straight- 
forward and  clear;  and  their  consciousness  directed  out- 
wards upon  the  world,  not  perplexedly  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  itself. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  harmony  which  was  the  essence 
of  the  Greek  civilisation,  was  a  temporary  compromise, 
not  a  final  solution.  It  depended  on  presumptions  of  the 
imagination,  not  on  convictions  of  the  intellect;  and  as  we 
have  seen,  it  destroyed  itself  by  the  process  of  its  own 
development.  The  beauty,  the  singleness,  and  the  freedom 
which   attracts   us    in  the  consciousness  of  the  Greek  was 


64  THE    GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

the  result  of  a  poetical  view  of  the  world,  which  did  but 
anticipate  in  imagination  an  ideal  that  was  not  realised 
in  fact  or  in  thought.  It  depended  on  the  assumption  of 
anthropomorphic  gods,  an  assmnption  which  could  not 
stand  before  the  criticism  of  reason,  and  either  broke 
down  into  scepticism,  or  was  developed  into  the  con- 
ception of  a  single  supreme  and  spiritual  power. 

And  even  apart  from  this  internal  evolution,  from  this 
subversion  of  its  ideal  basis,  the  harmony  established  by 
the  Greek  religion  was  at  the  best  but  partial  and  incom- 
plete. It  was  a  harmony  for  life,  but  not  for  death.  The 
more  completely  the  Greek  felt  himself  to  be  at  home  in 
the  world,  the  more  happily  and  freely  he  abandoned 
himself  to  the  exercise  of  his  powers,  the  more  intensely 
and  vividly  he  lived  in  action  and  in  passion,  the  more 
alien,  bitter,  and  incomprehensible  did  he  find  the  pheno- 
mena of  age  and  death.  On  this  problem,  so  far  as  we 
can  judge,  he  received  from  his  religion  but  little  light, 
and  still  less  consolation.  The  music  of  his  brief  life 
closed  with  a  discord  uiuresolved ;  and  even  before  reason 
had  brought  her  criticism  to  bear  upon  his  creed,  its 
deficiency  was  forced  upon  him  by  his  feeling. 

Thus  the  harmony  which  we  have  indicated  as  the 
characteristic  result  of  the  Greek  religion  contained  none 
of  the  conditions  of  completeness  or  finality.  For  on  the 
one  hand  there  were  elements  which  it  was  never  able 
to  include;  and  on  the  other,  its  hold  even  over  those 
which  it  embraced  was  temporary  and  precarious.  The 
eating  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  drove  the  Greeks  from 
their  paradise;  but  the  vision  of  that  Eden  continues  to 
haunt  the  mind  of  man,  not  in  vain,  if  it  prophesies  in 
a  type  the  end  to  which  his  history  moves. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  THE   STATE 

§  I.     The  Greek  State  a  "  City. " 

The  present  kingdom  of  Greece  is  among  the  smallest  of 
European  states ;  but  to  the  Greeks  it  would  have  appeared 
too  large  to  be  a  state  at  all.  Within  that  little  peninsular 
whose  whole  population  and  wealth  are  so  insignificant 
according  to  modern  ideas,  were  comprised  in  classical 
times  not  one  but  many  flourishing  polities.  And  the 
conception  of  an  amalgamation  of  these  under  a  single 
government  was  so  foreign  to  the  Greek  idea,  that  even  to 
Aristotle,  the  clearest  and  most  comprehensive  thinker  of 
his  age,  it  did  not  present  itself  even  as  a  dream.  To 
him,  as  to  every  ancient  Greek,  the  state  meant  the 
City — meant,  that  is  to  say,  an  area  about  the  size  of 
an  English  county,  with  a  population,  perhaps,  of  some 
hundred  thousand,  self-governing  and  independent  of  any 
larger  political  whole. 

If  we  can  imagine  the  various  County  Councils  of 
England  emancipated  from  the  control  of  Parliament  and 
set  free  to  make  their  own  laws,  manage  their  own  finance 

65 


66  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

and  justice,  raise  troops  and  form  with  one  another  alli- 
ances, offensive  and  defensive,  we  may  form  thus  some 
general  idea  of  the  political  institutions  of  the  Greeks  and 
some  measure  of  their  difference  from  our  own. 

Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  the  size  of  the  Greek 
state  was  a  mere  accident  in  its  constitution,  that  it  might 
have  been  indefinitely  enlarged  and  yet  regained  its 
essential  character.  On  the  contrary,  the  limitation  of 
size  belonged  to  its  very  notion.  The  greatest  state,  says 
Aristotle,  is  not  the  one  whose  population  is  most  numerous; 
on  the  contrary,  after  a  certain  limit  of  increase  has  been 
passed,  the  state  ceases  to  be  a  state  at  all.  **  Ten  men 
are  too  few  for  a  city;  a  hundred  thousand  are  too  many." 
Not  only  London,  it  seems,  bat  every  one  of  our  larger 
towns,  would  have  been  too  big  for  the  Greek  idea  of  a 
state;  and  as  for  the  British  empire,  the  very  conception 
of  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  the  Greeks. 

Clearly,  their  view  on  this  point  is  fundamentally  dif- 
ferent from  our  own.  Their  civilisation  was  one  of  "  city- 
states",  not  of  kingdoms  and  empires;  and  their  whole 
political  outlook  was  necessarily  determined  by  this 
condition.  Generalising  from  their  own  experience,  they 
had  formed  for  themselves  a  conception  of  the  state  not 
the  less  interesting  to  us  that  it  is  unfamiliar;  and  this 
conception  it  will  be  the  business  of  the  present  chapter 
to  illustrate  and  explain. 

^  2.     The  Relation  of  the  State  to  the  Citizen. 

First,  let  us  consider  the  relation  of  the  state  to 
the  citizens — that  is  to  say,  to  that  portion  of  the 
community,  usually  a  minority,  which  was  possessed  of 
full  political  rights.     It   is  here  that  we  have  the  key  to 


THE  RELATION  OF  THE  STATE  TO  THE  CITIZEN     67 

that  limitation  of  size  which  we  have  seen  to  be  essential 
to  the  idea  of  the  city-state.  For,  in  the  Greek  view,  to 
be  a  citizen  of  a  state  did  not  merely  imply  the  payment 
of  taxes,  and  the  possession  of  a  vote;  it  implied  a  direct  and 
active  co-operation  in  all  the  functions  of  civil  and  military 
life.  A  citizen  was  normally  a  soldier,  a  judge,  and  a 
member  of  the  governing  assembly;  and  all  his  public 
duties  he  performed  not  by  deputy,  but  in  person.  He 
must  be  able  frequently  to  attend  the  centre  of  government; 
hence  the  limitation  of  territory.  He  must  be  able  to 
speak  and  vote  in  person  in  the  assembly;  hence  the 
limitation  of  numbers.  The  idea  of  representative  govern- 
ment never  occurred  to  the  Greeks ;  but  if  it  had  occurred 
to  them,  and  if  they  had  adopted  it,  it  would  have  involved 
a  revolution  in  their  whole  conception  of  the  citizen.  Of 
that  conception,  direct  personal  service  was  the  cardinal 
point — service  m  the  field  as  well  as  in  the  coimcil;  and 
to  substitute  for  personal  service  the  mere  right  to  a  vote 
would  have  been  to  destroy  the  form  of  the  Greek  state. 
Such  being  the  idea  the  Greeks  had  formed,  based  on 
their  own  experience,  of  the  relation  of  the  citizen  to  the 
state,  it  follows  that  to  them  a  society  so  complex  as  our 
own  would  hardly  have  answered  to  the  definition  of  a 
state  at  all.  Rather  they  would  have  regarded  it  as  a 
mere  congeries  of  unsatisfactory  human  beings,  held  to- 
gether, partly  by  political,  partly  by  economic  compulsion, 
but  lacking  that  conscious  identity  of  interest  with  the 
community  to  which  they  belong  which  alone  constitutes 
the  citizen.  A  man  whose  main  pre-occupation  should  be 
with  his  trade  or  his  profession,  and  who  should  only 
become  aware  of  his  corporate  relations  when  called  upon 
for   his   rates   and    taxes — a   man,   that   is   to   say,   in  the 


68  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

position  of  an  ordinary  Englishman — would  not  have  seemed 
to  the  Greeks  to  be  a  full  and  proper  member  of  a  state. 
For  the  state,  to  them,  was  more  than  a  machinery,  it  was 
a  spiritual  bond;  and  ** public  life",  as  we  call  it,  was  not 
a  thing  to  be  taken  up  and  laid  aside  at  pleasure,  but  a 
necessary  and  essential  phase  of  the  existence  of  a  com- 
plete man. 

This  relation  of  the  citizen  to  the  state,  as  it  was  con- 
ceived by  the  Greeks,  is  sometimes  described  as  though 
it  involved  the  sacrifice  of  the  individual  to  the  whole. 
And  in  a  certain  sense,  perhaps,  this  is  true.  Aristotle, 
for  instance,  declares  that  no  one  must  suppose  he  belongs 
to  himself,  but  rather  that  all  alike  belong  to  the  state; 
and  Plato,  in  the  construction  of  his  ideal  republic,  is 
thinking  much  less  of  the  happiness  of  the  individual 
citizens,  than  of  the  symmetry  and  beauty  of  the  whole 
as  it  might  appear  to  a  disinterested  observer  from  with- 
out. Certainly  it  would  have  been  tedious  and  irksome 
to  any  but  his  own  ideal  philosopher  to  live  under  the 
rule  of  that  perfect  polity.  Individual  enterprise,  bent,  and 
choice  is  rigorously  excluded.  Nothing  escapes  the  net  of 
legislation,  from  the  production  of  children  to  the  fashion 
of  houses,  clothes,  and  food.  It  is  absurd,  says  the  ruth- 
less logic  of  this  mathematician  among  the  poets,  for  one 
who  would  regulate  public  life  to  leave  private  relations 
uncontrolled ;  if  there  is  to  be  order  at  all,  it  must  extend 
through  and  through ;  no  moment,  no  detail  must  be  with- 
drawn from  the  grasp  of  law.  And  though  in  this,  Plato, 
no  doubt,  goes  far  beyond  the  common  sense  of  the  Greeks, 
yet  he  is  not  building  altogether  in  the  air.  The  republic 
which  he  desiderates  was  realised,  as  we  shall  see,  partially 
at  least,  in  Sparta.     So  that  his  insistence  on  the  all-per- 


THE  RELATION  OF  THE  STATE  TO  THE  CITIZEN     69 

vading  domination  of  the  state,  exaggerated  though  it  be, 
is  exaggerated  on  the  actual  hues  of  Greek  practice,  and 
may  be  taken  as  indicative  of  a  real  distinction  and  even 
antithesis  between  their  point  of  view  and  that  which  pre- 
vails at  present  in  most  modern  states. 

But  on  the  other  hand  such  a  phrase  as  the  "sacrifice 
of  the  individual  to  the  whole",  to  this  extent  at  least  is 
misleading,  that  it  presupposes  an  opposition  between  the 
end  of  the  individual  and  that  of  the  State,  such  as  was 
entirely  foreign  to  the  Greek  conception.  The  best  indi- 
vidual, in  their  view,  was  also  the  best  citizen;  the  two 
ideals  not  only  were  not  incompatible,  they  were  almost 
indistinguishable.  When  Aristotle  defines  a  state  as  "an 
association  of  similar  persons  for  the  attainment  of  the  besi 
life  possible",  he  implies  not  only  that  society  is  the  means 
whereby  the  individual  attains  his  ideal,  but  also  that  that 
ideal  includes  the  functions  of  public  life.  The  state  in  his 
view  is  not  merely  the  convenient  machinery  that  raises  a 
man  above  his  animal  wants  and  sets  him  free  to  follow 
his  own  devices;  it  is  itself  his  end,  or  at  least  a  part  of 
it.  And  from  this  it  follows  that  the  regulations  of  the 
state  were  not  regarded  by  the  Greeks — as  they  are  apt 
to  be  by  modern  men — as  so  many  vexatious,  if  neces- 
sary, restraints  on  individual  liberty ;  but  rather  as  the  ex- 
pression of  the  best  and  highest  nature  of  the  citizen,  as 
the  formula  of  the  conduct  which  the  good  man  would 
naturally  prescribe  to  himself.  So  that,  to  get  a  clear 
conception  of  what  was  at  least  the  Greek  ideal,  however 
imperfectly  it  may  have  been  attained  in  practice,  we  ought 
to  regard  the  individual  not  as  sacrificed  to,  but  rather  as 
realising  himself  in  the  whole.  We  shall  thus  come  nearer 
to    what   seems  to  have  been  the  point  of  view  not  only 

6 


70  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

of    Aristotle    and    of    Plato,    but    also    of    the   average 
Greek  man. 

§  J.     The  Greek    View  of  Law, 

For  nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  the  political  theory 
of  the  Greeks  than  the  respect  they  habitually  express  for 
law.  Early  legislators  were  believed  to  have  been  speci- 
ally inspired  by  the  divine  power — Lycurgus,  for  instance, 
by  Apollo,  and  Minos  by  Zeus;  and  Plato  regards  it  as 
a  fundamental  condition  of  the  well-being  of  any  state  that 
this  view  should  prevail  among  its  citizens.  Nor  was  this 
conception  of  the  divine  origin  of  law  confined  to  legend 
and  to  philosophy;  we  find  it  expressed  in  the  following 
passage  of  Demosthenes,  addressed  to  a  jury  of  average 
Athenians,  and  representing  at  any  rate  the  conventional 
and  orthodox,  if  not  the  critical  view  of  the  Greek 
public : 

"  The  whole  life  of  men,  O  Athenians,  whether  they 
inhabit  a  great  city  or  a  small  one,  is  governed  by  nature 
and  by  laws.  Of  these,  nature  is  a  thing  irregular,  un- 
equal, and  peculiar  to  the  individual  possessor;  laws  are 
regular,  common,  and  the  same  for  all.  Nature,  if  it  be 
depraved,  has  often  vicious  desires ;  therefore  you  will  find 
people  of  that  sort  falling  into  error.  Laws  desire  what  is 
just  and  honourable  and  useful;  they  seek  for  this,  and, 
when  it  is  found,  it  is  set  forth  as  a  general  ordinance, 
the  same  and  alike  for  all;  and  that  is  law,  which  all 
men  ought  to  obey  for  many  reasons,  and  especially 
because  every  law  is  an  invention  and  gift  of  the  Gods, 
a  resolution  of  wise  men,  a  corrective  of  errors  intentional 
and  unintentional,  a  compact  of  the  whole  state,  according 


Artisans  aUd  slaves  7i 

to  which  all  who  belong  to  the  state  ought  to  live."  * 
In  this  opposition  of  Law,  as  the  universal  principle, 
to  Nature,  as  individual  caprice,  is  implied  a  tacit  iden- 
tification of  Law  and  Justice.  The  identification,  of  course, 
is  never  complete  in  any  state,  and  frequently  enough  is 
not  even  approximate.  No  people  were  more  conscious 
of  this  than  the  Greeks,  none,  as  we  shall  see  later,  pushed 
it  more  vigorously  home.  But  still,  the  positive  conception 
which  lay  at  the  root  of  their  society  was  that  which  finds 
expression  in  the  passage  we  have  quoted,  and  which  is 
stated  still  more  explicitly  in  the  "  Memorabilia  "  of  Xeno- 
phon,  where  that  admirable  example  of  the  good  and 
efficient  citizen  represents  his  hero  Socrates  as  maintaining, 
without  hesitation  or  reserve,  that  "  that  which  is  in 
accordance  with  law  is  just."  The  implication,  of  course, 
is  not  that  laws  cannot  be  improved,  that  they  do  at  any 
point  adequately  correspond  to  justice;  but  that  justice 
has  an  objective  and  binding  validity,  and  that  Law  is  a 
serious  and  on  the  whole  a  successful  attempt  to  embody 
it  in  practice.  This  was  the  conviction  predominant  in 
the  best  period  of  Greece;  the  conviction  under  which 
her  institutions  were  formed  and  flourished,  and  whose 
overthrow  by  the  philosophy  of  a  critical  age  was  coin- 
cident with,  if  it  was  not  the  cauje  of,  her  decline. 

^  4.     Artisans  and  Slaves. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  a  general  idea  of  the  nature 
of  the  Greek  state,  and  of  its  relations  to  the  individual 
citizen.  But  there  were  also  members  of  the  state  who 
were   not   citizens  at  all;  there  was  the  class  of  labourers 

*  Demosth.   in  Aristogeit.  §  17. —Translation  by  C.  R.  Kennedy. 


72  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

and  traders,  who,  in  some  states  at  least,  had  no  political 
rights ;  and  the  class  of  slaves  who  had  nowhere  any  rights 
at  all.  For  in  the  Greek  conception  the  citizen  was  an 
aristocrat.  His  excellence  was  thought  to  consist  in  public 
activity;  and  to  the  performance  of  public  duties  he  ought 
therefore  to  be  able  to  devote  tlie  greater  part  of  his  time 
and  energy.  But  the  existence  of  such  a  privileged 
class  involved  the  existence  of  a  class  of  producers  to 
support  them;  and  the  producers,  by  the  nature  of  their 
calling,  be  they  slave  or  free,  were  excluded  from  the  life 
of  the  perfect  citizen.  They  had  not  the  necessary  leisure 
to  devote  to  public  business;  neither  had  they  the  oppor- 
tunity to  acquire  the  mental  and  physical  qualities  which 
would  enable  them  to  transact  it  worthily.  They  were 
therefore  regarded  by  the  Greeks  as  an  inferior  class ;  in 
some  states,  in  Sparta,  for  example,  and  in  Thebes,  they 
were  excluded  from  political  rights;  and  even  in  Athens, 
the  most  democratic  of  all  the  Greek  communities,  though 
they  were  admitted  to  the  citizenship  and  enjoyed  con- 
siderable political  influence,  they  never  appear  to  have 
lost  the  stigma  of  social  inferiority.  And  the  distinction 
which  was  thus  more  or  less  definitely  drawn  in  practice 
between  the  citizens  proper  and  the  productive  class,  was 
even  more  emphatically  affirmed  in  theory.  Aristotle,  the 
most  balanced  of  all  the  Greek  thinkers  and  the  best 
exponent  of  the  normal  trend  of  their  ideas,  excludes  the 
class  of  artisans  from  the  citizenship  of  his  ideal  state  on 
the  ground  that  they  are  debarred  by  their  occupation 
from  the  characteristic  excellence  of  man.  And  Plato, 
though  here  as  elsewhere  he  pushes  the  normal  view  to 
excess,  yet,  in  his  insistence  on  the  gulf  that  separates  the 
citizen  from  the  mechanic  and  the  trader,   is  in  sympathy 


ARTISANS  AND   SLAVES  73 

with  the  general  cuiTent  of  Greek  ideas.  His  ideal  state 
is  one  which  depends  mainly  on  agriculture;  in  which 
commerce  and  exchange  are  reduced  to  the  smallest  pos- 
sible dimensions;  in  which  every  citizen  is  a  landowner, 
forbidden  to  engage  in  trade;  and  in  which  the  productive 
class  is  excluded  from  all  political  rights. 

The  obverse  then,  of  the  Greek  citizen,  who  realised 
in  the  state  his  highest  life,  was  an  inferior  class  of 
producers  who  realised  only  the  means  of  subsistence. 
But  within  this  class  again  was  a  distinction  yet  more 
fundamental — the  distinction  between  free  men  and  slaves. 
In  the  majority  of  the  Greek  states  the  slaves  were  the 
greater  part  of  the  population ;  in  Athens,  to  take  an 
extreme  case,  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  century,  they 
are  estimated  at  400,000,  to  100,000  citizens.  They  were 
employed  not  only  in  domestic  service,  but  on  the  fields, 
in  factories  and  in  mines,  and  performed,  in  short,  a 
considerable  part  of  the  productive  labour  in  the  state. 
A  whole  large  section,  then,  of  the  producers  in  ancient 
Greece  had  no  social  or  political  rights  at  all.  They  existed 
simply  to  maintain  the  aristocracy  of  citizens,  for  whom  and 
in  whom  the  state  had  its  being.  Nor  was  this  state  of 
things  in  the  least  repugnant  to  the  average  Greek  mind. 
Nothing  is  more  curious  to  the  modern  man  than  the 
temper  in  which  Aristotle  approaches  this  theme.  With- 
out surprise  or  indignation,  but  in  the  tone  of  an  impartial, 
scientific  inquirer,  he  asks  himself  the  question  whether 
slavery  is  natural,  and  answers  it  in  the  affirmative.  For, 
he  argues,  though  in  any  particulai  case,  owing  to  the  un- 
certain chances  of  fortune  and  war,  the  wrong  person 
may  happen  to  be  enslaved,  yet,  broadly  speaking,  the 
general  truth  remains,  that  there  are  some  men  so  inferior 


74  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

to  others  that  they  ought  to  be  despotically  governed,  by 
the  same  right  and  for  the  same  good  end  that  the  body 
ought  to  be  governed  by  the  soul.  Such  men,  he  main- 
tains, are  slaves  by  nature ;  and  it  is  as  much  to  their 
interest  to  be  ruled  as  it  is  to  their  masters'  interest  to 
rule  them.  To  this  class  belong,  for  example,  all  who 
are  naturally  incapable  of  any  but  physical  activity. 
These  should  be  regarded  as  detachable  limbs,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  man  who  owns  them,  instruments  of  his  will,  like 
hands  and  feet ;  or,  to  use  Aristotle's  own  phrase,  "  the  slave 
is  a  tool  with  life  in  it,  and  the  tool  a  lifeless  slave." 

The  relation  between  master  and  slave  thus  frankly 
conceived  by  the  Greeks,  did  not  necessarily  imply, 
though  it  was  quite  compatible  with,  brutality  of  treat- 
ment. The  slave  might  be  badly  treated,  no  doubt,  and 
very  frequently  was,  for  his  master  had  almost  absolute 
control  over  him,  life  and  limb ;  but,  as  we  should  expect, 
it  was  clearly  recognised  by  the  best  Greeks  that  the 
treatment  should  be  genial  and  humane.  "There  is  a 
certain  mutual  profit  and  kindness,"  says  Aristotle,  "  between 
master  and  slave,  in  all  cases  where  the  relation  is  natural, 
not  merely  imposed  from  without  by  convention  or  force."  * 
And  Plato  insists  on  the  duty  of  neither  insulting  nor 
outraging  a  slave,  but  treating  him  rather  with  even 
greater  fairness  than  if  he  were  in  a  position  of  equality. 

Still,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Greek  conception 
of  slavery  is  one  of  the  points  in  which  their  view  of 
hfe  runs  most  counter  to  our  own.  Centuries  of  Christ- 
ianity have  engendered  in  us  the  conviction,  or  rather, 
the    instinct,    that   men    are  equal  at  least  to  this  extent, 

'Arist.  Pol.  I.  7.  1255  b  12 


ARTISANS   AND   SLAVES  75 

that  no  one  has  a  right  explicitly  to  make  of  another  a 
mere  passive  instrument  of  his  will — that  every  man,  in 
short,  must  be  regarded  as  an  end  in  himself.  Yet  even 
here  the  divergence  between  the  Greek  and  the  modem 
view  is  less  extreme  than  it  appears  at  first  sight.  For 
the  modern  man,  in  spite  of  his  perfectly  genuine  belief 
in  equality  (in  the  sense  in  which  we  have  just  defined 
the  word),  does  nevertheless,  when  he  is  confronted  with 
racial  differences,  recognise  degrees  of  inferiority  so 
extreme,  that  he  is  practically  driven  into  the  Aristotelian 
position  that  some  men  are  naturally  slaves.  The  Amer- 
ican, for  example,  will  hardly  deny  that  such  is  his 
attitude  towards  the  negro.  The  negro,  in  tlieory,  is  the 
equal,  politically  and  socially,  of  the  white  man;  in  prac- 
tice, he  is  excluded  from  the  vote,  from  the  professions, 
from  the  amenities  of  social  intercourse,  and  even,  as  we 
have  recently  learnt,  from  the  most  elementary  forms  of 
justice.  The  general  and  di  priori  doctrine  of  equality  is 
shattering  itself  against  the  actual  facts;  and  the  old  Greek 
conception,  "  the  slave  by  nature ",  may  be  detected 
behind  the  mask  of  the  Christian  ideal.  And  while  thus, 
even  in  spite  of  itself,  the  modern  view  is  approximating 
to  that  of  the  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand  the  Greek 
view  by  its  own  evolution  was  already  beginning  to  an- 
ticipate our  own.  Even  Aristotle,  in  formulating  his  own 
conception  of  slavery,  finds  it  necessary  to  observe  that 
though  it  be  true  that  some  men  are  naturally  slaves,  yet 
in  practice,  under  conditions  which  give  the  victory  to 
force,  it  may  happen  that  the  "  natural "  slave  becomes 
the  master,  and  the  "natural"  master  is  degraded  to  a 
slave.  This  is  already  a  serious  modification  of  his 
doctrine.      And     other    writers,    pushing    the    contention 


76  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

further,  deny  altogether  the  theory  of  natural  slavery. 
"No  man,"  says  the  poet  Philemon,  "was  ever  bom  a 
slave  by  nature.  Fortune  only  has  put  men  in  that 
position."  And  Euripides,  the  most  modern  of  the  Greeks, 
writes  in  the  same  strain:  "One  thing  only  disgraces  a 
slave,  and  that  is  the  name.  In  all  other  respects  a  slave, 
if  he  be  good,  is  no  worse  than  a  freeman."  ^ 

It  seems  then  that  the  distinction  between  the  Greek 
and  tlie  modem  point  of  view  is  not  so  profound  or  so 
final  as  it  appears  at  first  sight.  Still,  the  distinction, 
broadly  speaking,  is  there.  The  Greeks,  on  the  whole, 
were  quite  content  to  sacrifice  the  majority  to  the  minority. 
Their  position,  as  we  said  at  the  outset,  was  fundamentally 
aristocratic;  they  exaggerated  rather  than  minimised  the 
distinctions  between  men — between  the  Greek  and  the 
barbarian,  the  freeman  and  the  slave,  the  gentleman  and 
the  artisan— regarding  them  as  natural  and  fundamental, 
not  as  the  casual  product  of  circumstimces.  The  "  equality" 
which  they  sought  m  a  well-ordered  state  was  proportional 
not  arithmetical— the  attribution  to  each  of  his  peculiar 
right,  not  of  equal  rights  to  all.  Some  were  born  to  rule, 
others  to  serve;  some  to  be  ends,  others  to  be  means; 
and  the  problem  to  be  solved  was  not  how  to  obliterate 
these  varieties  of  tone,  but  how  to  compose  them  into 
an  ordered  harmony. 

In  a  modern  state,  on  the  other  hand,  though  class 
distinctions  are  clearly  enough  marked,  yet  the  point  of 
view  from  which  they  are  regarded  is  fundamentally  different. 
They  arc  attributed  rather  to  accidents  of  fortune  than  to 
varieties   of  nature.     The   artisan,    for   example,  ranks  no 

*  Euripides,  Ion.  854 


THE  GREEK  STATE  PRIMARILY   MILITARY       77 

doubt  lower  than  the  professional  man;  but  no  one 
maintains  that  he  is  a  different  kind  of  being,  incapable 
by  nature,  as  Aristotle  asserts,  of  the  characteristic  excellence 
of  man.  The  distinction  admitted  is  rather  one  of  wealth 
than  of  natural  calling,  and  may  be  obliterated  by  ability  and 
good  luck.  Neither  in  theory  nor  in  practice  does  the 
modem  state  recognise  any  such  gulf  as  that  which,  in 
ancient  Greece,  separated  the  freeman  from  the  slave, 
or  the  citizen  from  the  non-citizen. 

^5.   The  Greek  State  Primarily  Military,  not 
Industrial, 

The  source  of  this  divergence  of  view  must  be  sought 
in  the  whole  circumstances  and  character  of  the  Greek 
states.  Founded  in  the  beginning  by  conquest,  many  of 
them  still  retained,  in  their  internal  structure,  the  marks 
of  their  violent  origin.  The  citizens,  for  example,  of 
Sparta  and  of  Crete,  were  practically  military  garrisons,  settled 
in  the  midst  of  a  hostile  population.  These  were  extreme 
cases;  and  elsewhere,  no  doubt,  the  distinction  between 
the  conquerors  and  the  conquered  had  disappeared. 
Still,  it  had  sufficed  to  mould  the  conception  and  ideal 
of  the  citizen  as  a  member  of  a  privileged  and  superior  class, 
whose  whole  energies  were  devoted  to  maintaining,  by 
council  and  war,  not  only  the  prosperity,  but  the  very 
existence  of  the  state.  The  original  citizen,  moreover, 
would  be  an  owner  of  land,  which  would  be  tilled  for 
him  by  a  subject  class.  Productive  labour  would  be 
stamped,  from  the  outset,  with  the  stigma  of  inferiority; 
commerce  would  grow  up,  if  at  all,  outside  the  limits  of 
the  landed  aristocracy,  and  would  have  a  struggle  to  win  for 
itself  any  degree  of  social  and  political  recognition.    Such 


78  THE   GREEK    VIEW   OF   LIFE 

were  the  conditions  that  produced  the  Greek  conception 
of  the  citizen.  In  some  states,  such  as  Sparta,  they  con- 
tinued practically  unchanged  throughout  the  best  period 
of  Greek  history;  in  others,  such  as  Athens,  they  were 
modified  by  the  growth  of  a  commercial  population,  and 
where  that  was  the  case  the  conception  of  the  citizen 
was  modified  too,  and  the  whole  polity  assumed  a  demo- 
cratic character.  Yet  never,  as  we  have  seen,  even  in  the 
most  democratic  states,  was  the  modern  conception  of 
equality  admitted.  For,  in  the  first  place,  the  institution 
of  slavery  persisted,  to  stamp  the  mass  of  producers  as  an 
inferior  caste ;  and  in  the  second  place,  trade,  even  in  the 
states  where  it  was  most  developed,  hardly  attained  a  pre- 
ponderating influence.  The  ancient  state  was  and  remained 
primarily  military.  The  great  industrial  questions  which 
agitate  modem  states  either  did  not  exist  at  all  in  Greece, 
or  assumed  so  simple  a  form  that  they  did  not  rise  to  the 
surface  of  political  life.  ^  How  curious  it  is,  for  example,  from 
the  modern  point  of  view,  to  find  Plato,  a  citizen  of  the 
most  important  trading  centre  of  Greece,  dismissing  in 
the  following  brief  sentence  the  whole  commercial  legislation 
of  his  ideal  state: 

"As  to  those  common  business  transactions  betvveen 
private  individuals  in  the  market,  including,  if  you  please, 
the  contracts  of  artisans,  libels,  assaults,  law-proceedings, 
and  the  impanelling  of  juries,  or  again  questions  relat- 
ing to  tariffs,  and  the  collection  of  such  customs  as  may 
be    necessary    in   the    market    or    in    the    harbours,    and 

*  There  was,  of  course,  the  general  opposition  between  rich  and 
poor  (see  below).  But  not  those  infinitely  complex  relations  which 
are  the  problems  of  modem  statesmanship. 


I 


THE   GREEK  STATE   PRIMARILY   MILITARY      79 

generally  all  regulations  of  the  market,  the  police,  the 
custom-house,  and  the  like;  shall  we  condescend  to 
legislate  at  all  on  such  matters? 

"  No,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  give  directions  on  these 
points  to  good  and  cultivated  men:  for  in  most  cases 
they  will  have  little  difficulty  in  discovering  all  the  legisla- 
tion required."  ^ 

In  fact,  throughout  his  treatise  it  is  the  non-commer- 
cial or  military  class  with  which  Plato  is  almost  exclusively 
concerned;  and  in  taking  that  hne  he  is  so  far  at  least 
in  touch  with  reality  that  that  class  was  the  one  which 
did  in  fact  predominate  in  the  Greek  state ;  and  that  even 
where,  as  in  Athens,  the  productive  class  became  an 
important  factor  in  political  life,  it  was  never  able  alto- 
gether to  overthrow  the  aristocratic  conception  of  the 
citizen. 

And  with  that  conception,  we  must  add,  was  bound  up 
the  whole  Greek  view  of  individual  excellence.  The 
inferiority  of  the  artisan  and  the  trader,  historically  estab- 
lished in  the  manner  we  have  indicated,  was  further 
emphasised  by  the  fact  that  they  were  excluded  by  their 
calling  from  the  cultivation  of  the  higher  personal  qualities 
— from  the  training  of  the  body  by  gymnastics  and  of  the 
mind  by  philosophy;  from  habitual  conversance  with  public 
affairs ;  from  that  perfect  balance,  in  a  word,  of  the  physical, 
intellectual,  and  moral  powers,  which  was  only  to  be 
attained  by  a  process  of  self-culture,  incompatible  with 
the  pursuance  of  a  trade  for  bread.  Such,  at  any  rate, 
was  the  opinion  of  the  Greeks.  We  shall  have  occasion 
to  return  to  it  later.  Meantime,  let  us  sum  up  the  course 
of  our  investigation  up  to  the  present  point. 

*  Plato,  Rep.  IV.   425. — Translated  by  Da\'ies  and  Vanphan. 


8o  THE   GREEK  VIEW   OF  LIFE 

We  have  seen  that  the  state,  in  the  Greek  view,  must 
be  so  hmited,  both  in  territory  and  population,  that  all 
its  citizens  might  be  able  to  participate  in  person  in  its 
government  and  defence;  that  it  was  based  on  funda- 
mental class  distinctions  separating  sharply  the  citizen 
from  the  non-citizen,  and  the  slave  from  the  free;  that 
its  end  and  purpose  was  that  all-absorbing  corporate 
activity  in  which  the  citizen  found  the  highest  expression 
of  himself;  and  that  to  that  end  the  inferior  classes  were 
regarded  as  mere  means — a  point  of  view  which  finds  its 
completest  expression  in  the  institution  of  slavery. 

§  6.     Forms  of  Government  in  the  Greek  State. 

While,  however,  this  was  the  general  idea  of  the  Greek 
state,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  was  every- 
where embodied  in  a  single  permanent  form  of  polity. 
On  the  contrary,  the  majority  of  the  states  in  Greece 
were  in  a  constant  state  of  flux;  revolution  succeeded 
revolution  with  startling  rapidity;  and  in  place  of  a  single 
fixed  type  what  we  really  get  is  a  constant  transition  from 
one  variety  to  another.  The  general  account  we  have 
given  ought  therefore  to  be  regarded  only  as  a  kind  of 
limiting  formula,  embracing  within  its  range  a  number 
of  polities  distinct  and  even  opposed  in  character.  Of 
these  polities  Aristotle,  whose  work  is  based  on  an  exami- 
nation of  all  the  existing  states  of  Greece,  recognises  three 
main  varieties :  government  by  the  one,  government  by  the 
few,  and  government  by  the  many ;  and  each  of  these  is  sub- 
divided into  two  forms,  one  good,  where  the  government  has 
regard  to  the  well-being  of  the  whole,  the  other  bad,  where  it 
has  regard  only  to  the  well-being  of  those  who  govern.  The 
result  is  six  forms,  of  which  three  are  good,  monarchy,  aristo- 


FACTION   AJSTD  ANARCHY  8l 

cracy,  and  what  he  calls  a  "polity"  par  excellence;  three 
bad,  tyranny,  oligarchy,  and  democracy.  Of  all  these 
forms  we  have  examples  in  Greek  history,  and  indeed  can 
roughly  trace  a  tendency  of  the  state  to  evolve  through 
tlie  series  of  them.  But  by  far  the  most  important,  in 
the  historical  period,  are  the  two  forms  known  as  Oligarchy 
and  Democracy;  and  the  reason  of  their  importance  is 
that  they  corresponded  roughly  to  government  by  the 
rich  and  government  by  the  poor.  "  Rich  and  poor," 
says  Aristotle,  "  are  the  really  antagonistic  members  of 
a  state.  The  result  is  that  the  character  of  all  existing 
polities  is  determined  by  the  predominance  of  one  or 
other  of  these  classes,  and  it  is  the  common  opinion 
that  there  are  two  polities  and  two  only,  viz.,  Demo- 
cracy and  Oligarchy."  ^  In  other  words,  the  social 
distinction  between  rich  and  poor  was  exaggerated  in 
Greece  into  political  antagonism.  In  every  state  there 
was  an  oligarchic  and  a  democratic  faction;  and  so  fierce 
was  the  opposition  between  them,  that  we  may  almost  say 
that  every  Greek  city  was  in  a  chronic  state  of  civil  war, 
having  become,  as  Plato  puts  it,  not  one  city  but  two, 
"one  comprising  the  rich  and  the  other  the  poor,  who 
reside  together  on  the  same  ground,  and  are  always  plotting 
against  one  another."  * 

§  y.     Faction  and  Autarchy. 

This  internal  schism  which  ran  through  almost  every 
state,  came  to  a  head  in  the  great  Peloponnesian  war 
which  divided  Greece  at  the  close  of  the  fifth  century, 
and  in  which  Athens  and  Sparta,  the  two  chief  combatants, 

*Arist.  Pol.  VI.  (IV)   1 29 1   b8.— Translation  by  Welldon. 
•Plat.  Rep.  VIU.  551. — Trauslation  by  Davies  and  Vaughan 


82  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

represented  respectively  the  democratic  and  the  oligarchic 
principles.  Each  appealed  to  the  kindred  faction  in  the 
states  that  were  opposed  to  them;  and  every  city  was 
divided  against  itself,  the  party  that  was  "  out "  for  the 
moment  plotting  with  the  foreign  foe  to  overthrow  the 
party  that  was  "in."  Thus  the  general  Greek  conception 
of  the  ordered  state  was  so  far  from  being  realised  in 
practice  that  probably  at  no  time  in  the  history  of  the 
civilised  world  has  anarchy  more  complete  and  cynical 
prevailed. 

To  appreciate  the  gulf  that  existed  between  the  ideal 
and  the  fact,  we  have  only  to  contrast  such  a  scheme  as 
that  set  forth  in  the  "  Republic  "  of  Plato  with  the  follow- 
ing description  by  Thucydides  of  the  state  of  Greece  during 
the  Peloponnesian  war: 

"  Not  long  afterwards  the  whole  Hellenic  world  was 
in  commotion;  in  every  city  the  chiefs  of  the  democracy 
and  of  the  oligarchy  were  struggling,  the  one  to  bring  in 
the  Athenians,  the  other  the  Lacedaemonians.  Now  in 
time  of  peace,  men  would  have  had  no  excuse  for  introducing 
either,  and  no  desire  to  do  so;  but  when  they  were  at 
war  and  both  sides  could  easily  obtain  allies  to  the  hurt 
of  their  enemies  and  the  advantage  of  themselves,  the 
dissatisfied  party  were  only  too  ready  to  invoke  foreign 
aid.  And  revolution  brought  upon  the  cities  of  Hellas 
many  terrible  calamities,  such  as  have  been  and  always 
will  be  while  human  nature  remains  the  same,  but  which 
are  more  or  less  aggravated  and  differ  in  character  with 
every  new  combination  of  circumstances.  In  peace  and 
prosperity  both  states  and  individuals  are  actuated  by  higher 
motives,  because  they  do  not  fall  under  the  dominion  of 
imperious    necessities ;    but    war    which    takes    away    the 


FACTION   AND   ANARCHY  83 

comfortable   provision   of  daily  life  is  a  hard  master,  and 
tends  to  assimilate  men's  characters  to  their  conditions. 

"When  troubles  had  once  begun  in  the  cities,  those  who 
followed  carried  the  revolutionary  spirit  further  and  fur- 
ther, and  determined  to  outdo  the  report  of  all  who  had 
preceded  them  by  the  ingenuity  of  their  enterprises  and 
the  atrocity  of  their  revenges.  The  meaning  of  words 
had  no  longer  the  same  relation  to  things,  but  was 
changed  by  them  as  they  thought  proper.  Reckless  daring 
was  held  to  be  loyal  courage;  prudent  delay  was  the 
excuse  of  a  coward;  moderation  was  the  disguise  of 
unmanly  weakness ;  to  know  everything  was  to  do  nothing. 
Frantic  energy  was  the  true  quality  of  a  man.  A  con- 
spirator who  wanted  to  be  safe  was  a  recreant  in  disguise. 
The  lover  of  violence  was  always  trusted,  and  his  opponent 
suspected.  He  who  succeeded  in  a  plot  was  deemed 
knowing,  but  a  still  greater  master  in  craft  was  he  who 
detected  one.  On  the  other  hand,  he  who  plotted  from 
the  first  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  plots  was  a  breaker-up 
of  parties  and  a  poltroon  who  was  afraid  of  the  enemy. 
In  a  word,  he  who  could  outstrip  another  in  a  bad  action 
was  applauded,  and  so  was  he  who  encouraged  to  evil 
one  who  had  no  idea  of  it.  The  tie  of  party  was  stronger 
than  the  tie  of  blood,  because  a  partisan  was  more  ready 
to  dare  without  asking  why  (for  party  associations  are  not 
based  upon  any  established  law,  nor  do  they  seek  the 
public  good;  they  are  formed  in  defiance  of  the  laws  and 
from  self-interest).  The  seal  of  good  faith  was  not  divine 
law,  but  fellowship  in  crime.  If  an  enemy  when  he  was 
in  the  ascendant  offered  fair  words,  the  opposite  party 
received  them,  not  in  a  generous  spirit,  but  by  a  jealous 
watchfulness  of  his  actions.     Revenge  was  dearer  than  self- 


84  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

preservation.  Any  agreements  sworn  to  by  either  party, 
when  they  could  do  nothing  else,  were  binding  as  long  as 
both  were  powerless.  But  he  who  on  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity first  took  courage  and  struck  at  his  enemy  when 
he  saw  him  off  his  guard,  had  greater  pleasure  in  a 
perfidious  than  he  would  have  had  in  an  open  act  of 
revenge;  he  congratulated  himself  that  he  had  taken  the 
safer  course,  and  also  that  he  had  overreached  his  enemy 
and  gained  the  prize  of  superior  ability.  In  general  the 
dishonest  more  easily  gain  credit  for  cleverness  than  the 
simple  for  goodness;  men  take  a  pride  in  the  one,  but 
are  ashamed  of  the  other. 

**  The  cause  of  all  these  evils  was  the  love  of  power 
originating  in  avarice  and  ambition,  and  the  party-spirit 
which  is  engendered  by  them  when  men  are  fairly  embarked 
in  a  contest.  For  the  leaders  on  either  side  used  specious 
names,  the  one  party  professing  to  uphold  the  constitutional 
equality  of  the  many,  the  other  the  wisdom  of  an  aristo- 
cracy, while  they  made  the  public  interests,  to  which  in 
name  they  were  devoted,  in  reality  their  prize.  Striving 
in  every  way  to  overcome  each  other,  they  committed 
the  most  monstrous  crimes ;  yet  even  these  were  surpassed 
by  the  magnitude  of  their  revenges  which  they  pursued 
to  the  very  utmost,  neither  party  observing  any  definite 
limits  either  of  justice  or  public  expediency,  but  both  alike 
making  the  caprice  of  the  moment  their  law.  Either  by 
the  help  of  an  unrighteous  sentence,  or  grasping  power 
with  the  strong  hand,  they  were  eager  to  satiate  the 
impatience  of  party  spirit.  Neither  faction  cared  for 
religion;  but  any  fair  pretence  which  succeeeded  in  effect- 
ing some  odious  purpose  was  greatly  lauded.  And  the 
citizens   who   were  of  neither  party   fell   a  prey  to  both; 


FACTION  AND  ANARCHY  85 

either  they  were  disHked  because  they  held  aloof,  or  men 
were  jealous  of  their  surviving. 

"  Thus  revolution  gave  birth  to  every  form  of  wicked- 
ness in  Hellas.  The  simplicity  which  is  so  large  an  element 
in  a  noble  nature  was  laughed  to  scorn  and  disappeared. 
An  attitude  of  perfidious  antagonism  everywhere  prevailed; 
for  there  was  no  word  binding  enough,  nor  oath  terrible 
enough  to  reconcile  enemies.  Each  man  was  strong  only 
in  the  conviction  that  nothing  was  secure;  he  must  look 
to  his  own  safety,  and  could  not  afford  to  trust  others. 
Inferior  intellects  generally  succeeded  best.  For  aware 
of  their  own  deficiencies,  and  fearing  the  capacities  of 
vheir  opponents,  for  whom  they  were  no  match  in  powers 
of  speech,  and  whose  subtle  wits  were  likely  to  anticipate 
them  in  contriving  evil,  they  struck  boldly  and  at  once. 
But  the  cleverer  sort,  presuming  in  their  arrogance  that 
they  would  be  aware  in  time,  and  disdaining  to  act 
when  they  could  think,  were  taken  off  their  guard  and 
easily  destroyed."  ^ 

The  general  indictment  thus  drawn  up  by  Thucydides 
is  amply  illustrated  by  the  events  of  war  which  he  de- 
scribes. Oh  one  occasion,  for  example,  the  Athenians 
were  blockading  Mitylene;  the  government,  an  oligarchy, 
was  driven  to  arm  the  people  for  the  defence;  the  people, 
having  obtained  arms,  immediately  demanded  political 
rights,  under  threat  of  surrendering  the  city  to  the  foreign 
foe ;  and  the  government,  rather  than  concede  their  claims, 
surrendered  it  themselves.  Again,  Megara,  we  learn,  was 
twice  betrayed,  once  by  the  democrats  to  the  Athenians, 
and   again   by   the   oligarchs   to  the  Lacedaemonians.     At 

'Thuc.  III.   82.— Translated  by  Jowett. 


86  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

Leontini  the  Syracusans  were  called  in  to  drive  out  the 
popular  party.  And  at  Corcyra  the  people,  having  got 
the  better  of  their  aristocratic  opponents,  proceeded  to  a 
general  massacre  which  extended  over  seven  days,  with 
every  variety  of  moral  and  physical  atrocity. 

Such  is  tlie  view  of  the  pohtical  condition  of  Greece 
given  to  us  by  a  contemporary  observer  towards  the  close 
of  the  fifth  century,  and  it  is  a  curious  comment  on  the 
Greek  idea  of  the  state.  That  idea,  as  we  saw,  was  an 
ordered  inequality,  political  as  well  as  social ;  and  in 
certain  states,  and  notably  in  Sparta,  it  was  successfully 
embodied  in  a  stable  form.  But  in  the  majority  of  the 
Greek  states  it  never  attained  to  more  than  a  fluctuating 
and  temporary  realisation.  The  inherent  contradiction 
was  too  extreme  for  the  attempted  reconciliation ;  the 
inequalities  refused  to  blend  in  a  harmony  of  divergent 
tones  but  asserted  themselves  in  the  dissonance  of  civil  war. 

§  8.     Property  and  the  Communistic  Ideal, 

And,  as  we  have  seen,  this  internal  schism  of  the 
Greek  state  was  as  much  social  as  political.  The 
"  many"  and  the  "  few "  were  identified  respectively  with 
the  poor  and  the  rich ;  and  the  struggle  was  thus  at 
bottom  as  much  economic  as  political.  Government  by 
xn  ohgarchy  was  understood  to  mean  the  exploitation  of 
che  masses  by  the  classes.  "  An  oligarchy,"  says  a 
democrat,  as  reported  by  Thucydides,  "while  giving  the 
people  the  full  share  of  danger,  not  merely  takes  too 
much  of  the  good  things,  but  absolutely  monopolises 
them."  *     And,    similarly,    the   advent   of  democracy  was 

*Thuc.  VI.  39.— Translated  by  Jowett. 


PROPERTY  AND  THE   COMMUNISTIC   IDEAL       87 

held  to  imply  the  spoliation  of  the  classes  in  the  interest 
of  the  masses,  either  by  excessive  taxation,  by  an  abuse 
of  the  judicial  power  to  fine,  or  by  any  other  of  the 
semi-legal  devices  of  oppression  which  the  majority  in 
power  have  always  at  their  command.  This  substantial 
identity  of  rich  and  poor,  respectively,  with  oligarch  and 
democrat  may  be  further  illustrated  by  the  following  passage 
from  Aristotle : 

"  In  consequence  of  the  political  disturbances  and  con- 
tentions between  the  commons  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
rich  on  the  other,  whichever  party  happens  to  get  the 
better  of  its  opponents,  instead  of  establishing  a  polity 
of  a  broad  and  equal  kind,  assumes  political  supremacy 
as  a  prize  of  the  victory,  and  sets  up  either  a  Democracy 
or  an  Oligarchy."  ^ 

We  see  then  that  it  was  the  underlying  question  of 
property  that  infused  so  strong  a  rancour  into  the  party 
struggles  of  Greece.  From  the  very  earliest  period,  in 
fact,  we  find  it  to  have  been  the  case  that  political 
revolution  was  prompted  by  economic  causes.  Debt  was 
the  main  factor  of  the  crisis  which  led  to  the  legislation 
of  Solon ;  and  a  re-division  of  the  land  was  one  of  the 
measures  attributed  to  Lycurgus.  ^  As  population  increased, 
and,  in  the  maritime  states,  commerce  and  trade  developed, 
the  problem  of  poverty  became  increasingly  acute ;  and 
though  it  was  partially  met  by  the  emigration  of  the 
surplus  population  to  colonies,  yet  in  the  fifth  and 
fourth   centuries   we   find    it  prominent  and  pressing  both 

'Arist.  Pol.  VI.  (IV)   1296  a  27.— Translation  by  WclMon. 

*I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  for  my  purpose,  here  or  else- 
where, to  discuss  the  authenticity  of  the  statements  made  by  Greek 
authors  about  Lycurgus. 


88  THE   GREEK    VIEW   OF   LIFE 

in  practical  politics  and  in  speculation.  Nothing  can 
illustrate  better  how  familiar  the  topic  was,  and  to  what 
free  theorising  it  had  led,  than  the  passages  in  which  it 
is  treated  hi  the  comedies  of  Aristophanes.  Here  for 
example,  is  an  extract  from  the  "  Fxclesiazusae "  which  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  insert  as  a  contribution  to  an 
argimient  that  belongs  to  every  age. 

Praxagora.  I  tell  you  that  we  are  all  to  share  alike 
and  have  everything  in  common,  instead  of  one 
being  rich  and  another  poor,  and  one  having  hundreds 
of  acres  and  another  not  enough  to  make  him  a 
grave,  and  one  a  houseful  of  servants  and  another 
not  even  a  paltry  foot-boy.  I  am  going  to  introduce 
communism  and  universal  equality. 

Blepsyrus.     How  communism? 

Prax.  That's  just  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  First 
of  all,  everybody's  money  and  land  and  anything 
else  he  may  possess  will  be  made  common  property. 
Then  we  shall  maintain  you  all  out  of  the  common 
stock,  with  due  regard  to  economy  and  thrift. 

Bleps.  But  how  about  those  who  have  no  land,  but  only 
money  that  they  can  hide? 

Prax.  It  will  all  go  to  the  public  purse.  To  keep 
anything  back  will  be  perjury. 

Bleps.  Perjury!  Well,  if  you  come  to  that,  it  was  by 
perjur}'  it  was  all  acquired. 

Prax.     And  then,  money  won't  be  the  least  use  to  any  one. 

Bleps.     Why  not? 

Prax.  Because  nobody  will  be  poor.  Everybody  will 
have  ever}'thing  he  wants,  bread,  salt-fish,  barley-cake, 
clothes,    wine,   garlands,  chickpeas.     So  what  will  be 


PROPERTY  AND   THE   COMMUNISTIC   IDEAL       89 

the   good   of  keeping   anything  back  ?     Answer  that 

if  you  can! 
Bleps.     Isn't  it  just  the  people  who  have  all  these  things 

that  are  the  greatest  thieves? 
Prax.     No    doubt,   under  the  old  laws.     But  now,  when 

everything  will  be  in  common  what  will  be  the  good 

of  keeping  anything  back  ? 
Bleps.     Who  will  do  the  field  work? 
Prax.     The   slaves ;   all   you  will  have  to  do  is  to  dress 

and  go  out  to  dinner  in  the  evening. 
Bleps.     But  what  about  the  clothes  ?    How  are  they  to  be 

provided  ? 
Prax.     What  you  have  now  will  do  to  begin  with,  and 

afterwards  we  shall  make  them  for  you  ourselves. 
Bleps.     Just   one   thing  more !     Supposing   a  man   were 

to  lose  his  suit  in  the  courts,  where  are  the  damages 

to    come   from  ?     It   would   not  be   fair   to  take  the 

public  funds. 
Prax.     But  there  won't  be  any  lawsuits  at  all ! 
Bleps.     That  will  mean  ruin  to  a  good  many  people! 
Bystander.    Just  my  idea! 
Prax.     Why  should  there  be  any? 
Bleps.     Why !    for   reasons   enough,  heaven  knows !     For 

instance,  a  man  might  repudiate  his  debts. 
Prax.     In   that   case,    where   did   the  man  who  lent  the 

money   get   it   from?      Clearly,  since  everything  is  in 

common,  he  must  have  stolen  it! 
Bleps.     So   he   must!      An  excellent  idea!     But  now  tell 

me    this.      When   fellows    come   to    blows  over  their 

cups,  where  are  the  damages  to  come  from? 
Prax.     From   the   rations!     A    man   won't  be  in  such  a 

hurry  to  make  a  row  when  his  belly  has  to  pay  for  it. 


90  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

Bleps.     One  thing  more !     Will  there  be  no  more  thieves  ? 

Prax.     Why  should  any  one  steal  what  is  hLs  own? 

Bleps.     And  won't  one  be  robbed  of  one's  cloak  at  night? 

Prax.     Not  if  you  sleep  at  home ! 

Bleps.     Nor  yet,  if  one  sleeps  out,  as  one  used  to  do? 

Prax.  No,  for  there  will  be  enough  and  to  spare  for 
all.  And  even  if  a  thief  does  try  to  strip  a  man, 
he  will  give  up  his  cloak  of  his  own  accord.  What 
would  be  the  good  of  fighting  ?  He  has  only  to  go 
and  get  another,  and  a  better,  from   the  public  store?. 

Bleps.     And  will  there  be  no  more  gambling? 

Prax.     What  will  there  be  to  play  for? 

Bleps.     And  how  about  house  accommodation? 

Prax.  That  will  be  the  same  for  all.  I  tell  you  I  am 
going  to  turn  the  whole  city  into  one  huge  house,  and 
break  down  all  the  partitions,  so  that  every  one  may 
have  free  access  to  every  one  else.  * 

The  "social  problem,"  then,  had  clearly  arisen  in  an- 
cient Greece,  though  no  doubt  in  an  infinitely  .simpler 
form  than  that  in  which  it  is  presented  to  ourselves ;  and 
it  might  perhaps  have  been  expected  that  the  Greeks, 
with  their  notion  of  the  supremacy  of  the  state,  would 
have  adopted  some  drastic  public  measure  to  meet  it. 
And,  in  fact,  in  the  earlier  period  of  their  history,  as  has 
been  indicated  above,  we  do  find  sweeping  revolutions 
effected  in  the  distribution  of  property.  In  Athens,  Solon 
abolished  debt,  either  in  whole  or  part,  by  reducing  the 
rate  of  interest  and  depreciating  the  currency;  and  in 
Sparta  Lycurgus  is  said  to  have  resumed  the  whole  of  the 
land   for   the   state,    and   redivided    it   equally  among  the 

'Aristoph.   Eccles.  590. 


PROPERTY  AND   THE   COMMUNISTIC   IDEAL       QI 

citizens.  We  have  also  traces  of  laws  existing  in  other 
states  to  regulate  in  the  interests  of  equality  the  possession 
and  transfer  of  land.  But  it  does  not  appear  that  any 
attempt  was  made  in  any  state  permanently  to  control  by 
public  authority  the  production  and  distribution  of  wealth. 
Meantime,  however,  the  problem  of  social  inequality 
was  exercising  the  minds  of  political  theorists;  and  we 
have  notice  of  various  schemes  for  an  ideal  polity  framed 
upon  communistic  principles.  Of  these  the  most  important, 
and  the  only  one  preserved  to  us,  is  the  celebrated 
"  Republic"  of  Plato ;  and  never,  it  may  be  safely  asserted, 
was  a  plan  of  society  framed  so  consistent,  harmonious 
and  beautiful  in  itself,  or  so  indifferent  to  the  actual  capa- 
cities of  mankind.  Following  out  what  we  have  already 
indicated  as  the  natural  drift  of  Greek  ideas,  the  philosopher 
separates  ofif  on  the  one  hand  the  productive  class,  who 
are  to  have  no  political  rights;  and  on  the  other  the  class 
of  soldiers  and  governors.  It  is  the  latter  alone  with 
whom  he  seriously  concerns  himself;  and  the  scheme  he 
draws  up  for  them  is  uncompromisingly  communistic. 
After  being  purged,  by  an  elaborate  education,  of  all  the 
egoistic  passions,  they  are  to  live  together,  having  all 
things  in  common,  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  public 
good,  and  guiltless  even  of  a  desire  for  any  private 
possession  or  advantage  of  their  own.  "  In  the  first  place, 
no  one,"  says  Plato,  "should  possess  any  private  pro- 
perty, if  it  can  possibly  be  avoided;  secondly,  no  one 
should  have  a  dweUing  or  store  house  into  which  all  who 
please  may  not  enter;  whatever  necessaries  are  required 
by  temperate  and  courageous  men,  who  are  trained  to 
war,  they  should  receive  by  regular  appointment  from 
their   fellow-citizens,   as   wages  for  their  services,  and  the 


^- 


92  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

amount  should  be  such  as  to  leave  neither  a  suiplus  on 
the  year's  consumption  nor  a  deficit;  and  they  should 
attend  common  messes  and  live  together  as  men  do  in 
a  camp:  as  for  gold  and  silver,  we  must  tell  them  that 
they  are  in  perpetual  possession  of  a  divine  species  of  the 
precious  metals  placed  in  their  souls  by  the  gods  them- 
selves, and  therefore  have  no  need  of  the  earthly  one; 
that  in  fact  it  would  be  profanation  to  pollute  their  spiritual 
riches  by  mixing  them  with  the  possession  of  mortal  gold, 
because  the  world's  coinage  has  been  the  cause  of  countless 
impieties,  whereas  theirs  is  undefiled:  therefore  to  them, 
as  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  the  people,  it  is  forbidden 
to  handle  or  touch  gold  and  silver,  or  enter  under  the 
same  roof  with  them,  or  to  wear  them  in  their  dresses, 
or  to  drink  out  of  the  precious  metals.  If  they  follow 
these  rules,  they  will  be  safe  themselves  and  the  saviours 
of  the  city :  but  whenever  they  come  to  possess  lands,  and 
houses,  and  money  of  their  own,  they  will  be  householders 
and  cultivators  instead  of  guardians,  and  will  become  hos- 
tile masters  of  their  fellow-citizens  rather  than  their  allies; 
and  so  they  will  spend  their  whole  lives,  hating  and  hated, 
plotting  and  plotted  against,  standing  in  more  frequent 
and  intense  alarm  of  their  enemies  at  home  than  of  their 
enemies  abroad;  by  which  time  they  and  the  rest  of  the 
city  will  be  running  on  the  very  brink  of  ruin."  ^ 

The  passage  is  interesting,  if  only  as  an  illustration 
of  the  way  in  which  Plato  had  been  impressed  by  the 
e\'il  results  of  the  institution  of  private  property.  But  as 
a  contribution  to  political  theory  it  was  open  to  severe 
attack  from  the  representatives  of  experience  and  common 
sense.     Of  these,    the  chief  was  Aristotle,  whose  criticism 

*  Plato,  Rep.  m.  416. — Translation  by  Davies  and  Vaughan. 


t 


PROPERTY   AND   THE   COMMUNISTIC   IDEAL       93 

has  been  preserved  to  us,  and  who,  while  admitting  that 
Plato's  scheme  has  a  plausible  appearance  of  philanthropy, 
maintains  that  it  is  inapplicable  to  the  facts  of  human 
nature.  To  this  conclusion,  indeed,  even  Plato  himself 
was  driven  in  the  end;  for  in  his  later  work,  the  "Laws," 
although  he  still  asserts  that  community  of  goods  would 
be  the  ideal  institution,  he  reluctantly  abandons  it  as  a 
basis  for  a  possible  state.  On  the  other  hand,  he  endeavours 
by  the  most  stringent  regulations,  to  prevent  the  growth 
of  inequalities  of  wealth.  He  distributes  the  land  in  equal 
lots  among  his  citizens,  prohibiting  either  purchase  or 
sub-division ;  limits  the  possession  of  money  to  the  amount 
required  for  daily  exchange ;  and  forbids  lending  on 
interest.  The  object  of  a  legislator,  he  declares,  is  to 
make  not  a  great  but  a  happy  city.  But  only  the  good 
are  happy,  and  goodness  and  wealth  are  incompatible. 
The  legislator,  therefore,  will  not  allow  his  citizens  to  be 
wealthy,  any  more  than  he  will  allow  them  to  be  poor. 
He  will  seek  to  establish  by  law  the  happy  mean ; 
and  to  this  end,  if  he  despair  of  the  possibility  of  a 
thorough-going  communism,  will  legislate  at  least  as 
indicated  above. 

The  uncompromising  idealism  of  Plato's  scheme,  with 
its  assumption  of  the  indefinite  plasticity  of  human  nature, 
is  of  course  peculiar  to  himself,  not  typical  of  Greek 
ideas.  But  it  is  noticeable  that  Aristotle,  who  is  a  far 
better  representative  of  the  average  Greek  mind,  exhibits 
the  same  mistrust  of  the  accumulation  of  private  property. 
In  the  beginning  of  his  "Politics"  he  distinguishes  two 
kinds  of  money-making,  one  natural,  that  which  is  pursued 
for  the  sake  of  a  livelihood,  the  other  unnatural,  that 
which    is    pursued    for    the   sake  of  accumulation.     "  The 


94  THE  GREEK  VIEW   OF  LIFE 

motive  of  this  latter,"  he  says,  "is  a  desire  for  life  instead 
of  for  good  life";  and  its  most  hateful  method  is  that  of 
usury,  the  unnatural  breeding  of  money  out  of  money. 
And  though  he  rejects  as  impracticable  the  compulsory 
communism  of  Plato's  "Republic",  yet  he  urges  as  the 
ideal  solution  that  property,  while  owned  by  individuals, 
should  be  held  as  in  trust  for  the  common  good ;  and 
puts  before  the  legislator  the  problem :  "  so  to  dispose 
the  higher  natures  that  they  are  unwilling,  and  the  lower 
that  they  are  unable  to  aggrandise  themselves."  ^ 

Such  views  as  these,  it  may  be  noted,  interesting  though 
they  be,  as  illustrating  how  keenly  the  thinkers  of  ancient 
Greece  had  realised  the  drawbacks  of  private  property, 
have  but  the  slightest  bearing  on  the  conditions  of  our 
own  time.  The  complexity'  and  extent  of  modem  industry 
have  given  rise  to  quite  new  problems,  and  quite  new 
schemes  for  their  solution ;  and  especially  have  forced  into 
prominence  the  point  of  view  of  the  producers  themselves. 
To  Greek  thinkers  it  was  natural  to  approach  the  question 
of  property  from  the  side  of  the  governing  class  or  of 
the  state  as  a  whole.  The  communism  of  Plato,  for 
example,  applied  only  to  the  "guardians"  and  soldiers, 
and  not  to  the  productive  class  on  whom  they  depended; 
and  so  completely  was  he  pre-occupied  with  the  former 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  latter,  that  he  dismisses  in  a 
single  sentence,  as  unworthy  the  legislator's  detailed 
attention,  the  whole  apparatus  of  labour  and  exchange. 
To  regard  the  "  working-class "  as  the  most  important 
section  of  the  community,  to  substitute  for  the  moral  or 
political  the  economic  standpoint,  and  to  conceive  society 

*  Aristotle,  Pol.  II.  7.   1267  b  6. — Translation  by  Welldon. 


SPARTA  95 

merely  as  a  machine  for  the  production  and  distribution 
of  wealth,  would  have  been  impossible  to  an  ancient 
Greek.  Partly  by  the  simplicity  of  the  economic  side  of 
the  society  with  which  he  was  acquainted,  partly  by  the 
habit  of  regarding  the  labouring  class  as  a  mere  means 
to  the  maintenance  of  the  rest,  he  was  led,  even  when 
he  had  to  deal  with  the  problem  of  poverty  and  v/ealth, 
to  regard  it  rather  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  stability 
and  efficiency  of  the  state,  than  from  that  of  the  welfare 
of  the  producers  themselves.  The  modem  attitude  is 
radically  different ;  a  revolution  has  been  effected  both 
in  the  conditions  of  industry  and  in  the  way  in  which 
they  are  regarded ;  and  the  practice  and  the  speculation 
of  the  Greek  city-states  have  for  us  an  interest  which, 
great  as  it  is,  is  philosophic  rather  than  practical. 

§  p.     Sparta, 

The  preceding  attempt  at  a  general  sketch  of  the  nature 
of  the  Greek  state  is  inevitably  loose  and  misleading  to 
this  extent,  that  it  endeavours  to  comprehend  in  a  single 
view  polities  of  the  most  varied  and  discrepant  character. 
To  remedy,  so  far  as  may  be,  this  defect,  to  give  an  im- 
pression, more  definite  and  more  complete,  of  the  variety 
and  scope  of  the  political  experience  of  the  Greeks,  let  us 
examine  a  Uttle  more  in  detail  the  character  of  the  two 
states  which  were  at  once  the  most  prominent  and  the 
most  opposed  in  their  achievement  and  their  aim — the 
state  of  Sparta  on  the  one  hand,  and  that  of  Athens  on 
the  other.  It  was  these  two  cities  that  divided  the  hegemony 
of  Greece;  they  represent  the  extremes  of  the  two  forms — 
oligarchy  and  democracy — under  which,  as  we  saw,  the  Greek 
polities  fall:  and  from  a  .sufficient  acquaintance  with  then^ 


96  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

we  may  gather  a  fairly  complete  idea  of  the  whole  range 
of  Greek  political  life. 

In  Sparta  we  see  one  extreme  of  the  political  develop- 
ment of  Greece,  and  the  one  which  approaches  nearest, 
perhaps,  to  the  characteristic  Greek  type.  Of  that  type,  it 
is  true,  it  was  an  exaggeration,  and  was  recognised  as  such 
by  the  best  thinkers  of  Greece ;  but  just  for  that  reason  it 
is  the  more  interesting  and  instructive  as  an  exliibition  of 
a  distinctive  aspect  of  Greek  civilisation. 

The  Spartan  state  was  composed  of  a  small  body  of 
citizens — the  Spartiatae  or  Spartans  proper — encamped  in 
the  midst  of  a  hostile  population  to  whom  they  allowed 
no  political  rights  and  by  whose  labour  they  were  supplied 
with  the  necessaries  of  life.  The  distinction  between  the 
citizen  class  on  the  one  hand  and  the  productive  class  on 
the  other  was  thus  as  clearly  and  sharply  drawn  as  pos- 
sible. It  was  e\en  exaggerated;  for  the  citizens  were  a 
band  of  conquerors,  the  productive  class  a  subject  race, 
perpetually  on  the  verge  of  insurrection  and  only  kept  in 
restraint  by  such  measures  as  secret  assassination.  The 
result  was  to  draw  together  the  small  band  of  Spartiatae 
into  a  discipline  so  rigorous  and  close  that  under  it  every- 
thing was  sacrificed  to  the  necessity  of  self-preservation; 
and  the  bare  maintenance  of  the  state  became  the  end  for 
which  every  individual  was  born,  and  lived,  and  died.  This 
discipline,  according  to  tradition,  had  been  devised  by  a 
single  legislator,  Lycurgus,  and  it  was  maintained  intact  for 
several  centuries.  Its  main  features  may  be  summarised 
as  follows. 

The  production  and  rearing  of  children,  to  begin  at  the 
beginning,  instead  of  being  left  to  the  caprice  of  indivi- 
duals,   was    controlled   and   regulated  by   the  state.     The 


SrARTA  97 

women,  in  the  first  place,  were  trained  by  physical  exercise 
for  the  healthy  performance  of  the  duties  of  motherhood ; 
they  were  taught  to  run  and  wresde  naked,  like  the  youths, 
to  dance  and  sing  in  public,  and  to  associate  freely  with 
men.  Marriage  was  permitted  only  in  the  prime  of  life;  and 
a  free  intercourse,  outside  its  limits,  between  healthy  men  and 
women,  was  encouraged  and  approved  by  public  opinion. 
Men  w^ho  did  not  marry  were  subject  to  social  and  civic 
disabilities.  The  children,  as  soon  as  they  were  born, 
were  submitted  to  the  inspection  of  the  elders  of  their 
tribe ;  if  strong  and  well-formed,  they  were  reared  ;  if  not, 
they  were  allowed  to  die. 

A  healthy  stock  having  been  thus  provided  as  a  basis, 
every  attention  was  devoted  to  its  appropriate  training. 
The  infants  were  encouraged  from  the  beginning  in  the 
free  use  of  their  limbs,  unhampered  by  swaddling-clothes, 
and  were  accustomed  to  endure  without  fear  darkness  and 
solitude,  and  to  cure  themselves  of  peevishness  and  crying. 
At  the  age  of  seven  the  boys  were  taken  away  from  the 
charge  of  their  parents,  and  put  under  the  superintendence 
of  a  public  official.  Their  education,  on  the  intellectual 
side,  was  slight  enough,  comprising  only  such  rudiments 
as  reading  and  writing ;  but  on  the  moral  side  it  was 
stringent  and  severe.  Gathered  into  groups  under  the 
direction  of  elder  youths — "  monitors  "  we  might  call  them 
— they  were  trained  to  a  discipline  of  iron  endurance. 
One  garment  served  them  for  the  whole  year;  they  went 
without  shoes,  and  slept  on  beds  of  rushes  plucked  with 
their  own  hands.  Their  food  was  simple,  and  often  enough 
they  had  to  go  without  it.  Every  moment  of  the  day 
they  were  under  inspection  and  supervision,  for  it  was  the 
privilege  and  the  duty  of  every  citizen  to  admonish  and 


q8  tHE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

punish  not  only  his  own  but  other  people's  children.  At 
supper  they  waited  at  table  on  their  elders,  answered  their 
questions  and  endured  their  jests.  In  the  streets  they  were 
taught  to  walk  in  silence,  their  hands  folded  in  their 
cloaks,  their  eyes  cast  down,  their  heads  never  turning  to 
right  or  left.  Their  gymnastic  and  military  training  was 
incessant;  wherever  they  met,  we  are  told,  they  began  to 
box;  under  the  condition,  however,  that  they  were  bound 
to  separate  at  the  command  of  any  bystander.  To 
accustom  them  early  to  the  hardships  of  a  campaign,  they 
were  taught  to  steal  their  food  from  the  mess-tables  of 
their  elders;  if  they  were  detected  they  were  beaten  for 
their  clumsiness,  and  went  without  their  dinner.  Nothing 
was  omitted,  on  the  moral  or  physical  side,  to  make  them 
efficient  members  of  a  military  state.  Nor  was  the  dis- 
cipline relaxed  when  they  reached  years  of  maturity. 
For,  in  fact,  the  whole  city  was  a  camp.  Family  life  was 
obliterated  by  public  acti\'ity.  The  men  dined  together  in 
messes,  rich  and  poor  alike,  sharing  the  same  coarse  and 
simple  food.  Servants,  dogs,  and  horses,  were  regarded 
as  common  property.  Luxury  was  strictly  forbidden.  The 
only  currency  in  circulation  was  of  iron,  so  cumbrous  that 
it  was  impossible  to  accumulate  or  conceal  it.  The  houses 
were  as  simple  as  possible,  the  roofs  shaped  only  with 
the  axe,  and  the  doors  with  the  saw;  the  furniture  and 
fittings  corresponded,  plain  but  perfectly  made.  The  nature 
of  the  currency  practically  prohibited  commerce,  and  no 
citizen  was  allowed  to  be  engaged  in  any  mechanical  trade. 
Agriculture  was  the  main  industry,  and  every  Spartan 
had,  or  was  supposed  to  have,  a  landed  estate,  cultivated 
by  serfs  who  paid  him  a  yearly  rent.  In  complete 
accordance    with    the    Greek    ideal,  it   was   a  society   of 


SPARTA  99 

soldier-citizens,    supported  by  an  inferior  productive  class. 

In  illustration  of  this  point  the  following  curious  anecdote 
may  be  quoted  from  Plutarch.  During  one  of  the  wars 
in  which  Sparta  and  her  allies  were  engaged,  the  allies 
complained  that  they,  who  were  the  majority  of  the  army, 
had  been  forced  into  a  quarrel  which  concerned  nobody 
but  the  Spartans.  Whereupon  Agesilaus,  the  Spartan 
king,  "  devised  this  expedient  to  show  the  allies  were 
not  the  greater  number.  He  gave  orders  that  all  the 
allies,  of  whatever  country,  should  sit  down  promiscuously 
on  one  side,  and  all  the  Lacedaemonians  on  the  other: 
which  being  done,  he  commanded  a  herald  to  proclaim, 
that  all  the  potters  of  both  divisions  should  stand  out; 
then  all  the  blacksmiths;  then  all  the  masons;  next  the 
carpenters ;  and  so  he  went  through  all  the  handicrafts. 
By  this  time  almost  all  the  allies  were  risen,  but  of  the 
Lacedaemonians  not  a  man,  they  being  by  law  forbidden 
to  learn  any  mechanical  business;  and  now  Agesilaus 
laughed  and  said,  "  You  see,  my  friends,  how  many  more 
soldiers  we  send  out  than  you  do."  ^ 

And  certainly,  so  far  as  its  immediate  ends  were  con- 
cerned, this  society  of  soldier-citizens  was  singularly  suc- 
cessful. The  courage  and  efficiency  of  Spartan  troops 
were  notorious,  and  were  maintained  indeed  not  only 
by  the  training  we  have  described,  but  by  social  penalties 
attached  to  cowardice.  A  man  who  had  disgraced  him- 
self in  battle  was  a  pariah  in  his  native  land.  No  one 
would  eat  with  him,  no  one  would  wrestle  with  him; 
in  the  dance  he  must  take  the  lowest  place ;  he  must 
give  the  wall  at  meetings  in  the  street,  and  resign  his  seat 

*Plut,  Agesilaus. — Translation  by  Clough. 


100  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

even  to  younger  men;  he  must  dress  and  bear  himself 
humbly,  under  penalty  of  blows,  and  suffer  the  reproaches 
of  women  and  of  boys.  Death  plainly  would  be  preferable 
to  such  a  life ;  and  we  are  not  surprised  to  hear  that  the 
discipline  and  valour  of  Spartan  troops  was  celebrated  far 
and  wide.  Here  is  a  description  of  them,  given  by  one 
of  themselves  to  the  Persian  king  when  he  was  projecting 
the  invasion  of  Greece: 

"  Brave  are  all  the  Greeks  who  dwell  in  any  Dorian 
land;  but  what  I  am  about  to  say  does  not  concern  all, 
but  only  the  Lacedaemonians.  First,  then,  come  what 
may,  they  will  never  accept  thy  terms,  which  would  reduce 
Greece  to  slavery;  and  further,  they  are  sure  to  join  battle 
with  thee,  though  all  the  rest  of  Greece  should  submit  to 
thy  will.  As  for  their  numbers,  do  not  ask  how  many 
they  are,  that  their  resistance  should  be  a  possible  thing; 
for  if  a  thousand  of  them  should  take  the  field,  they  will 
meet  thee  in  battle,  and  so  will  any  number,  be  it  less 
than  this,  or  be  it  more. 

"  When  they  fight  singly,  they  are  as  good  men  as  any 
in  the  world,  and  when  they  fight  in  a  body,  they  are 
the  bravest  of  all.  For  though  they  be  freemen,  they  are 
not  in  all  respects  free;  Law  is  the  master  whom  they 
own;  and  this  master  they  fear  more  than  thy  subjects 
fear  thee.  Whatever  he  commands  they  do;  and  his 
commandment  is  always  the  same :  it  forbids  them  to  flee 
in  battle,  whatever  the  number  of  their  foes,  and  requires 
them  to  stand  firm,  and  either  to  conquer  or  die."  ^ 

The  practical  illustration  of  this  speech  is  the  battle  of 
Thermopylae,  where  300  Spartans  kept  at  bay  the  whole 

•Herodotus  VU.   102,  4. — Translation  by  Rawlinson. 


SPARTA  I o  I 

Persian   host,    till   they   were   betrayed  from  the  rear  and 
killed  fighting  to  a  man. 

The  Spartan  state,  then,  justified  itself  according  to  its 
o\Mi  ideal;  but  how  limited  that  ideal  was  will  be  clear 
from  our  sketch.  The  individual,  if  it  cannot  be  said  that 
he  was  sacrificed  to  the  state — for  he  recognised  the  life 
of  the  state  as  his  own — was  at  any  rate  starved  upon  one 
side  of  his  nature  as  much  as  he  was  hypertrophied  upon 
the  other.  Courage,  obedience,  and  endurance  were 
developed  in  excess;  but  the  free  play  of  passion  and 
thought,  the  graces  and  arts  of  life,  all  that  springs  from 
the  spontaneity  of  nature,  were  crushed  out  of  existence 
under  this  stern  and  rigid  rule.  "None  of  them,"  says 
Plutarch,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  Spartan  polity 
"  none  of  them  was  left  alone  to  live  as  he  chose ;  but 
passing  their  time  in  the  city  as  though  it  were  a  camp, 
their  manner  of  life  and  their  avocations  ordered  with  a 
view  to  the  public  good,  they  regarded  themselves  as 
belongmg,  not  to  themselves,  but  to  their  country."  * 
And  Plato,  whose  ideal  republic  was  based  so  largely 
upon  the  Spartan  model,  has  marked  nevertheless  as  the 
essential  defect  of  their  polity  its  insistence  on  military 
virtue  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else,  and  its  excessive 
accentuation  of  the  corporate  aspect  of  life.  "Your  mili- 
tary way  of  life,"  he  says,  "is  modelled  after  the  camp, 
and  is  not  like  that  of  dwellers  in  cities;  and  you  have 
your  young  men  herding  and  feeding  together  like  3'-oung 
colts.  No  one  takes  his  own  individual  colt  and  drags 
him  away  from  his  fellows  against  his  will,  raging  and 
foaming,  and  gives  him  a  groom  for  him  alone,  and  trains 

'  Plut.  Lycurj^us,  ch.   24. 


I02  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

and  rubs  him  down  privately,  and  gives  him  the  qualities 
in  education  which  will  make  him  not  only  a  good  soldier, 
but  also  a  governor  of  a  state  and  of  cities.  Such  a  one 
would  be  a  greater  warrior  than  he  of  whom  Tyrtaeus 
sings ;  and  he  would  honour  courage  everywhere,  but  always 
as  the  fourth,  and  not  as  the  first  part  of  virtue,  either  in 
mdividuals  or  states."  * 

The  Spartan  state,  in  fact,  by  virtue  of  that  excellence 
which  was  also  its  defect — the  specialising  of  the  individual 
on  the  side  of  discipline  and  rule — carried  within  it  the 
seeds  of  its  own  destruction.  The  tendencies  which  Ly- 
curgus  had  endeavoured  to  repress  by  external  regulation 
reasserted  themselves  in  his  despite.  He  had  intended  once 
for  all  both  to  limit  and  to  equalise  private  property;  but 
aheady  as  early  as  the  fifth  century  Spartans  had  accu- 
mulated gold  which  they  deposited  in  temples  in  foreign 
states ;  the  land  fell,  by  inheritance  and  gift,  into  the  hands 
of  a  small  minority;  the  number  of  the  citizens  was  re- 
duced, not  only  by  war,  but  by  the  disfranchisement  at- 
tending inability  to  contribute  to  the  common  mess-tables; 
till  at  last  we  find  no  more  than  700  Spartan  families,  and 
of  these  no  more  than  100  possessing  estates  in  land. 

And  this  decline  from  within  was  hastened  by  external 
events.  The  constitution  devised  for  a  small  state  encamped 
amidst  a  hostile  population,  broke  down  under  the  weight 
of  imperial  power.  The  conquest  of  Athens  by  Sparta  was 
the  signal  of  her  own  collapse.  The  power  and  wealth 
she  had  won  at  a  stroke  alienated  her  sons  from  her  dis- 
cipline. Generals  and  statesmen  who  had  governed  like 
kings  the  wealthy  cities  of  the  east  were  unable  to  adapt 

*  Plato  La\TS,  II.  666  e. — Translation  by  Jowett. 


ATHENS  103' 

themselves  again  to  the  stern  and  narrow  rules  of  Lycurgus. 
They  rushed  into  freedom  and  enjoyment,  into  the  unfettered 
use  of  their  powers,  with  an  energy  proportional  to  the  pre- 
vious restraint.  The  features  of  the  human  face  broke 
through  the  fair  but  lifeless  mask  of  ancient  law;  and  the 
Spartan,  ceasing  to  be  a  Spartan,  both  rose  and  fell  to 
the  level  of  a  man. 

§10.     Athens. 

In  the  institutions  of  Sparta  we  see,  carried  to  its 
furthest  point,  one  side  of  the  complex  Greek  nature— 
their  capacity  for  discipline  and  law.  Athens,  the  home 
of  a  different  stock,  gives  us  the  other  extreme — their 
capacity  for  rich  and  spontaneous  individual  develop- 
ment. To  pass  from  Sparta  to  Athens,  is  to  pass  from  a 
barracks  to  a  playing-field.  All  the  beauty,  all  the  grace,  all 
the  joy  of  Greece ;  all  that  chains  the  desire  of  mankind,  with 
a  yearning  that  is  never  stilled,  to  that  one  golden  moment 
in  the  past,  whose  fair  and  balanced  interplay  of  perfect 
flesh  and  soul  no  later  gains  of  thought  can  compensate, 
centres  about  that  bright  and  stately  city  of  romance,  the 
home  of  Pericles  and  all  the  arts,  whence  from  generation 
to  generation  has  streamed  upon  ages  less  illustrious  an  in- 
fluence at  once  the  sanest  and  the  most  inspired  of  all  that 
have  shaped  the  secular  history  of  the  world.  Girt  by  moun- 
tain and  sea,  by  haimted  fountain  and  sacred  grove,  shaped 
and  adorned  by  the  master  hands  of  Pheidias  and  Polygnotus 
and  filled  with  the  breath  of  passion  and  song  by  Euripides 
and  Plato,  Athens,  famed  alike  for  the  legended  deeds  of  heroes 
and  gods  and  for  the  feats  of  her  human  sons  in  council, 
art,  and  war,  is  a  name,  to  those  who  have  felt  her  spell, 
more   familiar   and   more   dear   than   any  of  the  few  that 


I04  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

mark   with   gold   the  sombre   scroll    of  history.     And  still 

across   the   years   we  feel  the  throb  of  the  glorious  verse 

that  broke  in  praise  of  his  native  land  from  the  lips  of 
Euripides : 

"Happy  of  yore  were  the  children  of  race  divine 
Happy  the  sons  of  old  Erechtheus'   line 

Who  in  their  holy  state 

With  hands  inviolate 
Gather  the  (lower  of  wisdom  far-renowned, 
Lightly  lifting  their  feet  in  tlie  lucid  air 
Where  the  sacred  nine,  the  Pierid  Muses,  bare 

Harmonia  golden-crowned. 

There  in  the  wave  from  fair  Kcphisus  flowing 
Kupris  sweetens  the  winds  and  sets  them  blowing 

Over  the  delicate  land; 

And  ever  with  joyous  hand 
Braiding  her  fragrant  hair  with  the  blossom  of  roses, 
She  sendcth  the  Love  that  dwellcth  in  Wisdom's  place 
That  every  virtue  may  quicken  and  every  grace 

In  the  hearts  where  she  reposes."  ^ 

And  this,  the  Athens  of  poetry  and  art,  is  but  another 
aspect  of  the  Athens  of  political  history.  The  same  indivi- 
duality, the  same  free  and  passionate  energy  that  worked 
in  the  hearts  of  her  sculptors  and  her  poets,  moulded 
also  and  inspired  her  city  hfe.  In  contradistinction  to 
the  stem  and  rigid  discipline  of  Sparta,  the  Athenian 
citizen  displayed  the  resource,  the  versatihty  and  the 
zeal  that  only  freedom  and  self-reliance  can  teach.     The 

*Eurip.  Medea,  825. 


ATHENS  105 

contrast  is  patent  at  every  stage  of  the  history  of  the 
two  states,  and  has  been  acutely  set  forth  by  Thucydi- 
des  in  the  speech  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of 
the  Corinthian  allies  of  Sparta: 

"You  have  never  considered,"  they  say  to  the  Lace- 
daemonians, "  what  manner  of  men  are  these  Athenians 
with  whom  you  will  have  to  fight,  and  how  utterly  unlike 
yourselves.  They  are  revolutionary,  equally  quick  in  the 
conception  and  in  the  execution  of  every  new  plan ;  while 
you  are  conservative — careful  only  to  keep  what  you 
have,  originating  nothing,  and  not  acting  even  when 
action  is  most  necessary.  They  are  bold  beyond  their 
strength;  they  run  risks  which  prudence  would  condemn; 
and  in  the  midst  of  misfortunes  they  are  full  of  hope. 
Whereas  it  is  your  nature,  though  strong,  to  act  feebly ; 
when  your  plans  are  most  prudent,  to  distrust  them;  and 
when  calamities  come  upon  you,  to  think  that  you  will 
never  be  delivered  from  them.  They  are  impetuous,  and 
you  are  dilatory ;  they  are  always  abroad,  and  you  are 
always  at  home.  For  they  hope  to  gain  something  by 
leaving  their  homes;  but  you  are  afraid  that  any  new 
enterprise  may  imperil  what  you  have  already.  When 
conquerors,  they  pursue  their  victory  to  the  utmost ; 
when  defeated,  they  fall  back  the  least.  Their  bodies 
they  devote  to  their  country  as  though  they  belonged  to 
other  men ;  their  true  self  is  their  mind,  which  is  most 
truly  their  own  when  employed  in  her  service.  When 
they  do  not  carry  out  an  intention  which  they  have 
formed,  they  seem  to  have  sustained  a  personal  bereave- 
ment ;  when  an  enterprise  succeeds,  they  have  gained  a 
mere  instalment  of  what  is  to  come ;  but  if  they  fail, 
they  at  once  conceive  new  hopes  and  so  fill  up  the  void. 


Io6  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

With  them  alone  to  hope  is  to  have,  for  they  lose  not 
a  moment  in  the  execution  of  an  idea.  This  is  the  Hfe- 
long  task,  full  of  danger  and  toil,  which  they  are  always 
imposing  upon  themselves.  None  enjoy  their  good  tilings 
less,  because  they  are  always  seeking  for  more.  To  do 
their  duty  is  their  only  holiday,  and  they  deem  the  quiet 
of  inaction  to  be  as  disagreeable  as  the  most  tiresome 
business.  If  a  man  should  say  of  them,  in  a  word,  that 
they  were  born  neither  to  have  peace  themselves  nor 
to  allow  peace  to  other  men,  he  would  simply  speak 
the  truth."  ^ 

The  qualities  here  set  forth  by  Thucydides  as  charac- 
teristic of  the  Athenians,  were  partly  the  cause  and  partly 
the  effect  of  their  political  constitution.  The  history  of 
Athens,  indeed,  is  the  very  antithesis  to  that  of  Sparta 
In  place  of  a  type  fixed  at  a  stroke  and  enduring  for 
centuries,  she  presents  a  series  of  transitions  through  the 
whole  range  of  polities,  to  end  at  last  in  a  democracy  so 
extreme  that  it  refuses  to  be  included  within  the  limits  of 
the  general  formula  of  the  Greek  state. 

Seldom,  indeed,  has  "  equality  "  been  pushed  to  so  ex- 
treme a  point  as  it  was,  politically  at  least,  in  ancient 
Athens.  The  class  of  slaves,  it  is  true,  existed  there  as 
in  every  other  state;  but  among  the  free  citizens,  who 
included  persons  of  every  rank,  no  political  distinction  at 
all  was  drawn.  All  of  them,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest, 
had  the  right  to  speak  and  vote  in  the  great  assembly  of 
the  people  which  was  the  ultimate  authority;  all  were 
eligible  to  every  administrative  post;  all  sat  in  turn  as 
jurors  in  the  law-courts.     The  disabilities  of  poverty  were 

*Thuc.  I.  70. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


ATHENS  107 

minimised  by  payment  for  attendance  in  the  assembly 
and  the  courts.  And,  what  is  more  extraordinary,  even 
distinctions  of  abiUty  were  levelled  by  the  practice  of 
filling  all  offices,  except  the  highest,  by  lot. 

Had   the  citizens   been   a   class  apart,  as  was  the  case 
in   Sparta,  had  they  been  subjected  from  the  cradle  to  a 
similar  discipline  and  training,  forbidden  to  engage  in  any 
trade   or   business,   and  consecrated  to  the  service  of  the 
state,    there   would    have   been    nothing   surprising  in  this 
uncompromising  assertion  of  equality.     But  in  Athens  the 
citizenship   was   extended    to  every  rank  and  calling;  the 
poor   man  jostled   the  rich,  the   shopman   the   aristocrat, 
in    the    Assembly;    cobblers,    carpenters,    smiths,    farmers, 
merchants,  and  retail  traders  met  together  with  the  ancient 
landed  gentry,  to  debate  and  conclude  on  national  affairs; 
and   it   was  from   such  varied  elements  as  these  that  the 
lot  impartially  chose  the  officials  of  the  law,  the  revenue, 
the  police,   the  highways,  the  markets,  and  the  ports,  as 
well  as  the  jurors  at  whose  mercy  stood  reputation,  fortune, 
and  life.     The  consequence  was  that  in  Athens,  at  least  in 
the  later  period  of  her  history,  the  middle  and  lower  classes 
tended  to  monopolise  political  power.    Of  the  popular  leaders, 
Cleon,   the  most  notorious,  was  a  tanner;  another  was  a 
baker,    another    a    cattle-dealer.      Influence    belonged    to 
those   who   had  the  gift  of  leading  the  mass;   and  in  that 
competition  the  man  of  tongue,  of  energy,  and  of  resource, 
was  more  than  a  match  for  the  aristocrat  of  birth  and  intellect. 
The   constitution   of  Athens,  then,  was  one  of  political 
equality  imposed  upon  social  inequality.     To  illustrate  the 
point  we   may  quote  a  passage  from  Aristophanes  which 
shows  at  once  the  influence  exercised  by  the  trading  class 
and  the   disgust    with   which  that  influence  was  regarded 


Io8  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

by  the  aristocracy  whom  the  poet  represents.  The  passage 
is  taken  from  the  "  Knights,"  a  comedy  written  to 
discredit  Cleon,  and  turning  upon  the  expulsion  of  the 
notorious  tanner  from  the  good  graces  of  Demos,  by  the 
superior  impudence  and  address  of  a  sausage-seller.  De- 
mosthenes, a  general  of  the  aristocratic  party,  is  com- 
municating to  the  latter  the  destiny  that  awaits  him. 

Dei^iosTHENES  {to  the  SausagE-Seller  gravely). 
Set  these  poor  wares  aside;  and  now — bow  down 
To  the  ground;  and  adore  the  powers  of  earth  and  heaven. 

S.-S.     Heigh-day!     Why,  what  do  you  mean? 

Dem.  O  happy  man! 

Unconscious  of  your  glorious  destiny, 
Now  mean  and  unregarded ;  but  to-morrow. 
The  mightiest  of  the  mighty,  Lord  of  Athens. 

S.-S.     Come,  master,  what's  the  use  of  making  game? 
Why  can't  ye  let  me  wash  my  guts  and  tripe, 
And  sell  my  sausages  in  peace  and  quiet? 

Dem.     O  simple  mortal,  cast   those  thoughts  aside! 
Bid  guts  and  tripe  farewell !     Look  here !     Behold  ! 

{pointing  to  the  audience) 
The  mighty  assembled  multitude  before  ye! 

S.-S.     {with  a  grumble  of  indifference), 
I  see  'em. 

Dem.     You  shall  be  their  lord  and  master, 
The  sovereign  and  the  ruler  of  them  all, 
Of  the  assemblies  and  tribunals,   fleets  and  armies; 
You  shall  trample  down  the  Senate  under  foot. 
Confound  and  crush  the  generals  and  commanders, 
Arrest,  imprison,  and  confine  in  irons. 
And  feast  and  fornicate  in  the  Council  House. 

S.-S.     Are  there  any  means  of  making  a  great  man 
Of  a  sausage-selling  fellow  such  as  I? 


^, 


ATHENS  109 

Dem.     The  very  means  you  have,  must  make  ye  so, 
Low  breeding,   vulgar  birth,   and  impudence, 
These,  tliese  must  malce  ye,   what  you're  meant  to  be. 

S.-S.     I  can't  imagine  that  I'm  good  for  much. 

Dem.     Alas !     But    why  do  ye  say  so  ?     What's  the  meaning 
Of  these  misgivings  ?     I  discern   within  ye 
A  promise  and  an   inward  consciousness 
Of  greatness.     Tell  me  truly:  are  ye   allied 
To  the  families  of  gentry? 

S.-S.  Naugh,  not  I; 

I'm   come  from   a  common  ordinary  kindred, 
Of  the  lower  order. 

Dem.  What  a  happiness! 

What  a  footing  will  it  give  ye !     What  a  groimdwork 
For  confidence  and  favour  at  your  outset! 

S.-S.     But  bless  ye !  only  consider  my  education ! 
I  can  but  barely  read  ....  in  a  kind  of  way. 

Dem.     That  m.akes  against  ye ! — the  only  thing  against  ye — 
The  being  able  to  read,  in  any  way: 
For  now  no  lead  nor  influence  is  allowec 
To  liberal  arts  or  learned  education. 
But  to  the  brutal,  base,  and  underbred. 
Embrace  then    and  hold  fast  the  promises 
Which  the  oracles  of  the  gods  announce  to  you.  * 

We  have  here  an  illustration,  one  among  many  that 
might  be  given,  of  the  political  equality  that  prevailed  in 
Athens.  It  shows  us  how  completely  that  distinction  be- 
tween the  military  or  governing,  and  the  productive  class, 
which  belonged  to  the  normal  Greek  conception  of  the 
state,  had  been  broken  down,  on  the  side  at  least  of  pri- 
vilege and  right,  though  not  on  that  of  social  estimation, 

*Aristoph.  Knights.    155. — Translation  by  Frere. 


no  THE  GREEK  VIEW   OF  LIFE 

in  this  most  democratic  of  the  ancient  states.  Politically, 
the  Athenian  trader  and  the  Athenian  artisan  was  the 
equal  of  the  aristocrat  of  purest  blood;  and  so  far  the 
government  of  Athens  was  a  genuine  democracy. 

But  so  far  only.  For  in  Athens,  as  in  every  Greek 
state,  the  greater  part  of  the  population  was  unfree;  and 
the  government  which  was  a  democracy  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  freeman,  was  an  oligarchy  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  slave.  For  the  slaves,  by  the  nature  of  their 
position,  had  no  political  rights;  and  they  were  more 
than  half  of  the  population.  It  is  noticeable,  however, 
that  the  freedom  and  individuality  which  was  characteristic 
of  the  Athenian  citizen,  appears  to  have  reacted  favour- 
ably on  the  position  of  the  slaves.  Not  only  had  they, 
to  a  certain  extent,  the  protection  of  the  law  against  the 
worst  excesses  of  their  masters,  but  they  were  allowed  a 
license  of  bearing  and  costume  which  would  not  have  been 
tolerated  in  any  other  state.  A  contemporary  writer  notes 
that  in  dress  and  general  appearance  Athenian  slaves  were 
not  to  be  distinguished  from  citizens;  that  they  were  permitted 
perfect  freedom  of  speech;  and  that  it  was  open  to  them 
to  acquire  a  fortune  and  to  live  in  ease  and  luxury.  In 
Sparta,  he  says,  the  slave  stands  in  fear  of  the  freeman, 
but  in  Athens  this  is  not  the  case ;  and  certainly  the  bear- 
ing of  the  slaves  introduced  into  the  Athenian  comedy 
does  not  indicate  any  undue  subservience.  Slavery  at  the 
best  is  an  undemocratic  institution;  but  in  Athens  it 
appears  to  have  been  made  as  democratic  as  its  nature 
would  admit. 

We  find  then,  in  the  Athenian  state,  the  conception  of 
equality  pushed  to  the  farthest  extreme  at  all  compatible 
with  Greek  ideas ;  pushed,  we  may  fairly  say,  at  last  to  an 


J 


ATHENS  1 1 1 

undue  excess;  for  the  great  days  of  Athens  were  those 
when  she  was  still  under  the  influence  of  her  aristocracy, 
and  when  the  popular  zeal  evoked  by  her  free  institutions 
was  directed  by  members  of  the  leisured  and  cultivated 
class.  The  most  glorious  age  of  Athenian  history  closes 
with  the  death  of  Pericles;  and  Pericles  was  a  man  of 
noble  family,  freely  chosen,  year  after  year,  by  virtue  of 
his  personal  qualities,  to  exercise  over  this  democratic 
nation  a  dictatorship  of  character  and  brain.  It  is  into  his 
mouth  that  Thucydides  has  put  that  great  panegyric  of 
Athens,  which  sets  forth  to  all  time  the  type  of  an  ideal 
state  and  the  record  of  what  was  at  least  partially  achieved 
in  the  greatest  of  the  Greek  cities: 

"Our  form  of  government  does  not  enter  into  rivalry 
with  the  institutions  of  others.  We  do  not  copy  our 
neighbours,  but  are  an  example  to  them.  It  is  true  that 
we  are  called  a  democracy,  for  the  administration  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  many  and  not  of  the  few.  But  while  the 
law  secures  equal  justice  to  all  alike  in  their  private 
disputes,  the  claim  of  excellence  is  also  recognised;  and 
when  a  citizen  is  in  any  way  distinguished,  he  is  preferred 
to  the  public  service,  not  as  a  matter  of  privilege,  but  as 
the  reward  of  merit.  Neither  is  poverty  a  bar,  but  a  man 
may  benefit  his  country  whatever  be  the  obscurity  of  his 
condition.  There  is  no  exclusiveness  in  our  public  life, 
and  in  our  private  intercourse  we  are  not  suspicious 
of  one  another,  nor  angry  with  our  neighbour  if  he 
does  what  he  Ukes;  we  do  not  put  on  sour  looks  at 
him,  which,  though  harmless,  are  not  pleasant.  While 
we  are  thus  unconstrained  in  our  private  intercourse, 
a  spirit  of  reverence  pervades  our  public  acts;  we  are 
prevented   from   doing  wrong  by  respect  for  authority  and 


112  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

for  the  laws,  having  an  especial  regard  for  those 
which  are  ordained  for  the  protection  of  the  injured,  as 
well  as  for  those  unwritten  laws  which  bring  upon  the 
transgressor  of  thera  the  reprobation  of  the  general 
sentiment. 

"  And  we  have  not  forgotten  to  provide  for  our  weary 
spirits  many  relaxations  from  toil;  we  have  regular  games 
and  sacrifices  throughout  the  year;  at  home  the  style 
of  our  life  is  refined;  and  the  delight  which  we  daily 
feel  in  all  these  things  helps  to  banish  melancholy. 
Because  of  the  greatness  of  our  city  the  fruits  of  the  whole 
earth  flow  in  upon  us,  so  that  we  enjoy  the  goods  of 
other  countries  as  freely  as  of  our  own. 

"  Then  again,  our  military  training  is  in  many  respects 
superior  to  that  of  our  adversaries.  Our  city  is  thrown 
open  to  the  world,  and  we  never  expel  a  foreigner  or 
prevent  him  from  seeing  or  learning  anything  of  which 
the  secret  if  revealed  to  an  enemy  might  profit  him.  We 
rely  not  upon  management  and  trickery,  but  upon  our 
own  hearts  and  hands.  And  in  the  matter  of  education, 
whereas  they  from  early  youth  are  always  undergoing 
laborious  exercises  which  are  to  make  them  brave,  we  live 
at  ease,  and  yet  are  ready  to  face  the  perils  which  they  face. 

"  If  then  we  prefer  to  meet  danger  with  a  light  heart 
but  without  laborious  training,  and  with  a  courage  which 
is  gained  by  habit  and  not  enforced  by  law,  are  we  not 
greatly  the  gainers  ?  Since  we  do  not  anticipate  the  pain, 
although  when  the  hour  comes,  we  can  be  as  brave  as 
those  who  never  allow  themselves  to  rest;  and  thus  too 
our  city  is  equally  admirable  in  peace  and  in  war.  For 
we  are  lovers  of  the  beautiful,  yet  simple  in  our  tastes, 
and    we    cultivate    the    mind    without    loss    of  manliness. 


ATHENS  113 

Wealth  we  employ,  not  for  talk  and  ostentation,  but  when 
there  is  a  real  use  for  it.  To  avow  poverty  with  us  is 
no  disgrace;  the  tme  disgrace  is  in  doing  nothing  to 
avoid  it.  An  Athenian  citizen  does  not  neglect  the  state 
because  he  takes  care  of  his  own  household ;  and  even 
those  of  us  who  are  engaged  in  business  have  a  very  fair 
idea  of  politics.  We  alone  regard  a  man  who  takes  no 
interest  in  public  affairs,  not  as  a  harmless,  but  as  a  useless 
character;  and  if  few  of  us  are  originators,  we  are  all  sound 
judges  of  a  policy.  The  great  impediment  to  action  is,  in 
our  opinion,  not  discussion  but  the  want  of  that  knowledge 
which  is  gained  by  discussion  preparatoiy  to  action.  For 
we  have  a  peculiar  power  of  thinking  before  we  act,  and 
of  acting  too,  whereas  other  men  are  courageous  from 
ignorance  but  hesitate  upon  reflection.  And  they  are 
surely  to  be  esteemed  the  bravest  spirits  who  have  the 
clearest  sense  both  of  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  life,  but 
do  not  on  that  account  shrink  from  danger. 

"  To  sum  up,  I  say  that  Athens  is  the  school  of 
Hellas,  and  that  the  individual  Athenian  in  his  own  person 
seems  to  have  the  power  of  adapting  himself  to  the  most 
varied  forms  of  action  with  the  utmost  versatility  and 
grace.  This  is  no  passing  and  idle  word,  but  truth  and 
fact;  and  the  assertion  is  verified  by  the  position  to  which 
these  qualities  have  raised  the  state.  For  in  the  hour  of 
trial  Athens  alone  among  her  contemporaries  is  superior 
to  the  report  of  her.  No  enemy  who  comes  against  her 
is  indignant  at  the  reverses  which  he  sustains  at  the  hands 
of  such  a  city;  no  subject  complains  that  his  masters  are 
unworthy  of  him.  And  we  shall  assuredly  not  be  without 
witnesses;  there  are  mighty  monuments  of  our  power  which 
will  make  us  the  wonder  of  this  and  of  succeeding  ages: 


ii4  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  Lit'E 

we  shall  not  need  the  praises  of  Homer  or  of  any  other 
panegyrist,  whose  poetry  may  please  for  the  moment, 
although  his  representation  of  the  facts  will  not  bear  the 
light  of  day.  For  we  have  compelled  every  land,  every 
sea,  to  open  a  path  for  our  valour,  and  have  everywhere 
planted  eternal  memorials  of  our  friendship  and  of  our 
enmity."  * 

An  impression  so  superb  as  this  it  is  almost  a  pity 
to  mar  with  the  inevitable  comi)lcment  of  disaster  and 
decay.  But  our  account  of  the  Athenian  polity  would  be 
misleading  and  incomplete  if  we  did  not  indicate  how 
the  idea  of  equality,  on  which  it  turned,  defeated  itself, 
as  did,  in  Sparta,  the  complementary  idea  of  order,  by 
the  excesses  of  its  own  development.  Already  before 
the  close  of  the  fifth  century,  and  with  reiterated  emphasis 
in  the  earlier  decades  of  the  fourth,  we  hear  from  poets 
and  orators  praise  of  a  glorious  past  that  is  dead,  and 
denunciations  of  a  decadent  present.  The  ancient  training 
in  g)'mnastics,  we  are  told,  the  ancient  and  generous 
culture  of  mind  and  soul,  is  neglected  and  despised  by 
a  generation  of  traders ;  reverence  for  age  and  authority, 
even  for  law,  has  disappeared ;  and  in  the  train  of  these 
have  gone  the  virtues  they  engendered  and  nurtured. 
Cowardice  has  succeeded  to  courage,  disorder  to  discipline; 
the  place  of  the  statesman  is  usurped  by  the  demagogue; 
and  instead  of  a  nation  of  heroes,  marshalled  under  the 
supremacy  of  the  wise  and  good,  modern  Athens  presents 
to  view  a  disordered  and  competitive  mob,  bent  only  on 
turning  each  to  his  own  personal  advantage  the  now 
corrupt  machinery  of  administration  and  law. 

*Thuc.  n.  37. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


ATHENS  i,^ 


And  however  much  exaggeration  there  may  be  in  these 
denmiciations  and  regrets,  we  know  enough  of  the  interior 
working    of   the    institutions    of   Athens    to   see   that  she 
had    to    pay    in  licence   and  in  fraud  the  bitter  price  of 
equahty  and  freedom.    That  to  the  influence  of  disinterested 
statesmen  succeeded,  as  the  democracy  accentuated  itself, 
the  tyranny  of  unscrupulous  demagogues,  is  evidenced  by  the 
testimony,  not  only  of  the  enemies  of  popular  government, 
but  by  that  of  a  democrat  so  convinced  as  Demosthenes! 
"Smce    these    orators    have    appeared,"    he   says,    "who 
ask,    What   is  your  pleasure?   what   shall   I   move?  how 
can    I    oblige   you?    the    public   welfare  is  complimented 
away  for  a  moment's  popularity,  and  these  are  the  results; 
the   orators   thrive,   you  are  disgraced  ....    Anciently  the 
people,   having  the  courage  to  be  soldiers,  controlled  the 
statesmen,    and   disposed   of  all   emoluments ;  any  of  the 
rest  were   happy   to  receive  from  the  people  his  share  of 
honour,    office,    or    advantage.     Now,    contrariwise,    the 
statesmen  dispose  of  emoluments ;  through  them  everything 
is   done;   you,  the  people,  enervated,  stripped  of  treasure 
and    allies,    are    become    as    underlings    and    hangers-on, 
happy  if  these  persons  dole  you  out  show-money  or  send 
you  paltty   beeves ;   and,    the  unmanliest  part  of  all,  you 
are  grateful  for  receiving  your  own."  * 

And  this  indictment  is  amply  confirmed  from  othei 
sources.  We  know  that  the  populace  was  demoralised  by 
payments  from  the  public  purse ;  that  the  fee  for  attendance 
m  the  Assembly  attracted  thither,  as  ready  instruments  in 
the  hands  of  ambitious  men,  the  poorest  and  most  degraded 
of  the  citizens;  that  the  fees  of  jurors  were  the  chief  means 

'Dem.  01.  in.— Translation  by  Kennedy. 


H6  THE   GREEK  VIEW   OF  LIFE 

of  subsistence  for  an  indigent  class,  who  had  thus  a  direct 
interest  in  the  muhiplication  of  suits;  and  that  the  city 
was  infested  by  a  race  of  "  sycophants  ",  whose  profession 
was  to  manufacture  frivolous  and  vexatious  indictments. 
Of  one  of  these  men  Demosthenes  speaks  as  follows: 

"  He  cannot  show  any  respectable  or  honest  employment 
in  which  his  life  is  engaged.  His  mind  is  not  occupied 
in  promoting  any  political  good;  he  attends  not  to  any 
trade,  or  husbandry,  or  other  business;  he  is  connected 
with  no  one  by  tics  of  humanity  or  social  union :  but  he 
walks  through  the  market-place  like  a  viper  or  a  scorpion, 
with  his  sting  up-lifted,  hastening  here  and  there,  and  look- 
ing out  for  someone  whom  he  may  bring  into  a  scrape,  or 
fasten  some  calumny  or  mischief  upon,  and  put  in  alarm 
in  order  to  extort  money."  ^ 

From  all  this  we  may  gather  an  idea  of  the  way  in 
which  the  Athenian  democracy  by  its  own  development 
destroyed  itself.  Beginning,  on  its  first  emergence  from 
an  earlier  aristocratic  phase,  with  an  energy  that  inspired 
without  shattering  the  forms  of  discipline  and  law,  it  dis- 
solved by  degrees  this  coherent  whole  into  an  anarchy  of 
individual  wills,  drawn  deeper  and  deeper,  in  pursuit  of 
mean  and  egoistic  ends,  into  political  fraud  and  commer- 
cial chicanery,  till  the  tradition  of  the  gentleman  and  the 
soldier  was  choked  by  the  dust  of  adventurers  and  swind- 
ers,  and  the  people,  whose  fathers  had  fought  and  prevailed 
at  Marathon  and  Salamis,  fell  as  they  deserved,  by 
treachery  from  within  as  much  as  by  force  from  without, 
into  the  grasp  of  the  Macedonian  conqueror. 


'Demosth.  in  Anstogeit.  A.  62. — Translated  by  C.  R.  Kennedy. 


-^ 


SCEPTICAL  CRITICISM  OF  THE  BASIS  OF  THE  STATE  I  I  ^ 

§  J  I.     Sceptical  Criticism  of  the  Basis  of  the  State. 

Having  thus  supplemented  our  general  account  of  the 
Greek  conception  of  the  state  by  a  description  of  their 
two  most  prominent  polities,  it  remains  for  us  in  conclusion 
briefly  to  trace  the  negative  criticism  under  whose  attack 
that  conception  threatened  to  dissolve. 

We  have  quoted,  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  chapter,  a 
striking  passage  from  Demosthenes,  embodying  that  view 
of  the  objective  validity  of  law  under  which  alone  political 
institutions  can  be  secure.  "That  is  law,"  said  the  orator, 
"  which  all  men  ought  to  obey  for  many  reasons,  and 
especially  because  every  law  is  an  invention  and  gift  of 
the  gods,  a  resolution  of  wise  men,  a  correction  of  errors 
intentional  and  unintentional,  a  compact  of  the  whole 
state,  according  to  which  all  who  belong  to  the  state  ought 
to  live."  That  is  the  conception  of  law  which  the  citizens 
of  any  stable  state  must  be  prepared  substantially  to 
accept,  for  it  is  the  condition  of  that  fundamental  belief 
in  established  institutions  which  alone  can  make  it  worth 
while  to  adapt  and  to  improve  them.  It  was,  accordingly, 
the  conception  tacitly,  at  least,  accepted  in  Greece,  during 
the  period  of  her  constructive  vigour.  But  it  is  a  con- 
ception constantly  open  to  attack.  For  law,  at  any  given 
moment,  even  under  the  most  favourable  conditions,  cannot 
do  more  than  approximate  to  its  own  ideal.  It  is,  at 
best,  but  a  rough  attempt  at  that  reconciliation  of  con- 
flicting interests  towards  which  the  reason  of  mankind  is 
always  seeking;  and  even  in  well-ordered  states  there 
must  always  be  individuals  and  classes  who  resent,  and 
rightly  resent  it,  as  unjust.  But  the  Greek  states,  as  we 
have  seen,   were  not  well-ordered;  on  the  contrary,  they 

9 


Il8  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

were  always  on  the  verge,  or  in  the  act,  of  civil  war ;  and 
the  conception  of  law,  as  "  a  compact  of  the  whole  state, 
according  to  which  all  who  belong  to  the  state  ought  to 
live,"  must  have  been,  at  the  least,  severely  tried,  in  cities 
permanently  divided  into  two  factions,  each  intent  not 
merely  on  defeating  the  other,  but  on  excluding  it  alto- 
gether from  political  rights.  Such  conditions,  in  fact, 
must  have  irresistibly  suggested  the  criticism,  which  always 
dogs  the  idea  of  the  state,  and  against  which  its  only 
defence  is  in  a  perpetual  perfection  of  itself — the  criticism 
that  law,  after  all,  is  only  the  rule  of  the  strong,  and 
justice  the  name  under  which  they  gloze  their  usurpation. 
That  is  a  point  of  view  which,  even  apart  from  their  poli- 
tical dissensions,  would  hardly  have  escaped  the  subtle  in- 
tellect of  the  Greeks;  and  in  fact,  from  the  close  of  the 
fifth  century  onwards,  we  find  it  constantly  canvassed  and 
discussed. 

The  mind  of  Plato,  in  particular,  was  exercised  by  this 
contention;  and  it  was,  one  may  say,  a  main  object  of 
his  teaching  to  rescue  the  idea  of  justice  from  identifi- 
cation with  the  special  interest  of  the  strong,  and  re-afhrm 
it  as  the  general  interest  of  all.  For  this  end,  he  takes 
occasion  to  state,  with  the  utmost  frankness  and  lucidity, 
the  view  which  it  is  his  intention  to  refute;  and  consequently 
it  is  in  his  works  that  we  find  the  fullest  exposition  of 
the  destructive  argument  he  seeks  to  answer. 

Briefly,  that  argument  runs  as  follows: — It  is  the  law 
of  nature  that  the  strong  shall  rule;  a  law  which  every 
one  recognises  in  fact,  though  every  one  repudiates  it  in 
theory.  Government  therefore  simply  means  the  rule  of 
the  strong,  and  exists,  no  matter  what  its  form,  whether 
tyranny,    oligarchy,   or  democracy,  in  the  interests  not  of 


SCEPTICAL  CRITICISM  OF  THE  BASIS  OF  THE  STATE  1 1 9 

its  subjects  but  of  itself.  "Justice"  and  "Law"  are  the 
specious  names  it  employs  to  cloak  its  own  arbitrary 
will;  they  have  no  objective  validity,  no  reference  to  the 
well-being  of  all ;  and  it  is  only  the  weak  and  the  fooHsh 
on  whom  they  impose.  Strong  and  original  natures  sweep 
away  this  tangle  of  words,  assert  themselves  in  defiance 
of  false  shame,  and  claim  the  right  divine  that  is  theirs 
by  nature,  to  rule  at  their  will  by  virtue  of  their  strength. 
"Each  government,"  says  Thrasymachus  in  the  Republic, 
"  has  its  laws  framed  to  suit  its  own  interests ;  a  democracy 
making  democratic  laws;  an  autocrat  despotic  laws,  and 
so  on.  Now  by  this  procedure  these  governments  have 
pronounced  that  what  is  for  the  interest  of  themselves  is 
just  for  their  subjects;  and  whoever  deviates  from  this,  is 
chastised  by  them  as  guilty  of  illegality  and  injustice. 
Therefore,  my  good  sir,  my  meaning  is,  that  in  all  cities 
the  same  thing,  namely,  the  interest  of  the  established 
govei-nment  is  just.  And  superior  strength,  I  presume,  is 
to  be  found  on  the  side  of  government.  So  that  the 
conclusion  of  right  reasoning  is,  that  the  same  thing, 
namely,  the  interest  of  the  stronger,  is  everywhere  just."  ^ 

Here  is  an  argument  which  strikes  at  the  root  of  all 
subordination  to  the  state,  setting  the  subject  against  the 
ruler,  the  minority  against  the  majority,  with  an  emphasis 
of  opposition  that  admits  of  no  conceivable  reconciliation. 
And,  as  we  have  noticed,  it  was  an  argument  to  which 
the  actual  political  conditions  of  Greece  gave  a  strong 
show  of  plausibility. 

How  then  did  the  constructive  thinkers  of  Greece 
attempt  to  meet  it? 

'Plato,  Rep.  338. — Translated  by  Davies  and  Vaughan. 


I20  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

The  procedure  adopted  by  Plato  is  curiously  opposed 
to  that  which  might  seem  natural  to  a  modern  thinker  on 
politics.  The  scepticism  which  was  to  be  met,  having  sprung 
from  the  extremity  of  class-antagonism,  it  might  be  sup- 
posed that  the  cure  would  be  sought  in  some  sort  of 
system  of  equality.  Plato's  idea  is,  precisely  the  contrary. 
The  distinction  between  classes  he  exaggerates  to  its 
highest  point ;  only  he  would  have  it  depend  on  degrees, 
not  of  wealth,  but  of  excellence.  In  the  ideal  republic 
which  he  constructs  as  a  type  of  a  state  where  justice 
should  really  rule,  he  sets  an  impassable  gulf  between 
the  governing  class  and  the  governed;  each  is  specially 
trained  and  specially  bred  for  its  appropriate  function ; 
and  the  harmony  between  them  is  ensured  by  the  recog- 
nition, on  either  part,  that  each  is  in  occupation  of  the 
place  for  which  it  is  naturally  fitted  in  that  whole  to 
which  both  alike  are  subordinate.  Such  a  state,  no  doubt, 
if  ever  it  had  been  realised  in  practice,  would  have  been 
a  complete  reply  to  the  sceptical  argument;  for  it  would 
have  established  a  "justice"  which  was  the  expression 
not  of  the  caprice  of  the  governing  class,  but  of  the 
objective  will  of  the  whole  community.  But  in  practice 
such  a  state  was  not  realised  in  Greece ;  and  the  experience 
of  the  Greek  world  does  not  lead  us  to  suppose  that  it 
was  capable  of  realisation.  The  system  of  stereotyping 
classes — in  a  word,  of  caste — which  has  played  so  great 
a  part  in  the  history  of  the  world,  does  no  doubt  embody 
a  great  truth,  that  of  natural  inequality ;  and  this  truth, 
as  we  saw,  was  at  the  bottom  of  that  Greek  conception 
of  the  state,  of  which  the  "  Republic "  of  Plato  is  an 
idealising  caricature.  But  the  problem  is  to  make  the 
inequality   of  nature   really  correspond    to   the  inequality 


SCEPTICAL  CRITICISM  OF  THE  BASIS  OF  THE  STATE  1 2  I 

imposed  by  institutions.  This  problem  Plato  hoped  to 
solve  by  a  strict  public  control  of  the  marriage  relation, 
so  that  none  should  be  born  into  any  class  who  were  not 
naturally  fitted  to  be  members  of  it;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
the  difficulty  has  never  been  met;  and  the  system  of  caste 
remains  open  to  the  reproach  that  its  "justice"  is  conven- 
tional and  arbitrary,  not  the  expression  of  the  objective  nature 
and  will  of  all  classes  and  members  of  the  community. 

The  attempt  of  Aristotle  to  construct  a  state  that  should 
be  the  embodiment  of  justice  is  similar  to  Plato's  so 
far  as  the  relation  of  classes  is  concerned.  He,  too,  pos- 
tulates a  governing  class  of  soldiers  and  councillors,  and 
a  subject  class  of  productive  labourers.  When,  however, 
he  turns  from  the  ideal  to  practical  politics,  and  considers 
merely  how  to  avoid  the  worst  extremes  of  party  antagonism, 
his  solution  is  the  simple  and  familiar  one  of  the  prepon- 
derance of  the  middle  class.  The  same  view  was  dominant 
both  in  French  and  English  politics  from  the  year  1830 
onwards,  and  is  only  now  being  thrust  aside  by  the 
democratic  ideal.  In  Greece  it  was  never  realised  except 
as  a  passing  phase  in  the  perpetual  flux  of  polities. 
And  in  fine  it  may  be  said  that  the  problem  of  establishing 
a  state  which  should  be  a  concrete  refutation  of  the 
sceptical  criticism  that  "justice"  is  merely  another  name 
for  force,  was  one  that  was  never  solved  in  ancient  Greece. 
The  dissolution  of  the  idea  of  the  state  was  more  a 
symptom  than  a  cause  of  its  failure  in  practice  to  harmonise 
its  warring  elements.  And  Greece,  divided  into  conflicting 
polities,  each  of  which  again  was  divided  within  itself, 
passed  on  to  Macedon  and  thence  to  Rome  that  task  of 
reconciling  the  individual  and  the  class  with  the  whole, 
about  which  the  political  history  of  the  woild  turns. 


122  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

^  12,     Summary. 

We  have  now  given  some  account  of  the  general  charac- 
ter of  the  Greek  state,  the  ideas  that  underlay  it,  and  the 
criticism  of  those  ideas  suggested  by  the  course  of  history 
and  formulated  by  speculative  thought.  It  remains  to 
offer  certain  reflections  on  the  political  achievement  of  the 
Greeks,  and  its  relation  to  our  own  ideas. 

The  fruitful  and  positive  aspect  of  the  Greek  state, 
that  which  fastens  upon  it  the  eyes  of  later  generations 
as  upon  a  model,  if  not  to  be  copied,  as  least  to  be 
praised  and  admired,  is  that  identification  of  the  individual 
citizen  with  the  corporate  life,  which  delivered  him  from 
the  narrow  circle  of  personal  interests  into  a  sphere  of 
wider  views  and  higher  aims.  The  Greek  citizen,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  the  best  days  of  the  best  states,  in  Athens 
for  example  in  the  age  of  Pericles,  was  at  once  a  soldier 
and  a  politician;  body  and  mind  alike  were  at  his  country's 
service;  and  his  whole  ideal  of  conduct  was  inextricably 
bound  up  with  his  intimate  and  personal  participation  in 
public  affairs.  If  now  with  this  ideal  we  contrast  the  life 
of  an  average  citizen  in  a  modem  state,  the  absorption  in 
private  business  and  family  concerns,  the  "  greasy  domes- 
ticity "  (to  use  a  phrase  of  Byron's),  that  limits  and  clouds 
his  vision  of  the  world,  we  may  well  feel  that  the  Greeks 
had  achieved  something  which  we  have  lost,  and  may 
even  desire  to  return,  so  far  as  we  may,  upon  our  steps, 
and  to  re-establish  that  interpenetration  of  private  and 
public  life  by  which  the  individual  citizen  was  at  once 
depressed  and  glorified. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  such  a  procedure 
would  be  in   any   way  possible  or  desirable.     For  in  the 


SUMMARY  123 

first  place,  the  existence  of  the  Greek  citizen  depended 
upon  that  of  an  inferior  class  who  were  regarded  not  as 
ends  in  themselves,  but  as  means  to  his  perfection.  And 
that  is  an  arrangement  which  runs  directly  counter  to  the 
modern  ideal.  All  modern  societies  aim,  to  this  extent  at 
least,  at  equality,  that  their  tendency,  so  far  as  it  is  con- 
scious and  avowed,  is  not  to  separate  off  a  privileged  class 
of  citizens,  set  free  by  the  labour  of  others  to  live  the 
perfect  life,  but  rather  to  distribute  impartially  to  all  the 
burdens  and  advantages  of  the  state,  so  that  every  one 
shall  be  at  once  a  labourer  for  himself  and  a  citizen  of 
the  state.  But  this  ideal  is  clearly  incompatible  with  the 
Greek  conception  of  the  citizen.  It  implies  that  the  greater 
portion  of  every  man's  life  must  be  devoted  to  some  kind 
of  mechanical  labour,  whose  immediate  connection  with 
the  public  good,  though  certain,  is  remote  and  obscure; 
and  that  in  consequence  a  deliberate  and  unceasing  pre- 
occupation with  the  end  of  the  state  becomes  as  a  general 
rule  impossible. 

And,  in  the  second  place,  the  mere  complexity  and 
size  of  a  modern  state  is  against  the  identification  of  the 
man  with  the  citizen.  For,  on  the  one  hand,  public  issues 
are  so  large  and  so  involved  that  it  is  only  a  few  who 
can  hope  to  have  any  adequate  comprehension  of  them; 
and  on  the  other,  the  subdivision  of  functions  is  so  minute 
that  even  when  a  man  is  directly  employed  in  the  service 
of  the  state  his  activity  is  confined  to  some  highly  speci- 
alised department.  He  must  choose,  for  example,  whether 
he  will  be  a  clerk  in  the  treasury  or  a  soldier;  but  he  can- 
not certainly  be  both.  In  the  Greek  state  any  citizen 
could  undertake,  simultaneously  or  in  succession,  and  with 
complete   comprehension   and   mastery,   every  one  of  the 


124  T^^  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

comparatively  few  and  simple  public  offices;  in  a  modern 
state  such  an  arrangement  has  become  impossible.  The 
mere  mechanical  and  physical  conditions  of  our  life  pre- 
clude the  ideal  of  the  ancient  citizen. 

But,  it  may  be  said,  the  activity  of  the  citizen  of  a 
modern  state  should  be  and  increasingly  will  be  concerned 
not  with  the  whole  but  with  the  part.  By  the  develop- 
ment of  local  institutions  he  will  come,  more  and  more, 
to  identify  himself  with  the  public  life  of  his  district 
and  his  town ;  and  will  bear  to  that  much  the  same 
relation  as  was  borne  by  the  ancient  Greek  to  his 
city  state.  Certainly  so  far  as  the  limitation  of  area, 
and  the  simplicity  and  intelligibility  of  issues  is  con- 
cerned, such  an  analogy  might  be  fairly  pressed ;  and 
it  is  probably  in  connection  with  such  local  areas  that 
the  average  citizen  does  and  increasingly  will  become 
aware  of  his  corporate  relations.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  can  hardly  be  maintained  that  public  business 
in  this  restricted  sense  either  could  or  should  play 
the  part  in  the  life  of  the  modem  man  that  it  played  in 
that  of  the  ancient  Greek.  For  local  business  after  all 
is  a  matter  of  sewers  and  parks ;  and  however  great  the 
importance  of  such  matters  may  be,  and  however  great 
their  claim  upon  the  attention  of  competent  men,  yet  the 
kind  of  interest  they  awaken  and  the  kind  of  faculties 
they  employ  can  hardly  be  such  as  to  lead  to  the 
identification  of  the  individual  ideal  with  that  of  public 
activity.  The  life  of  the  Greek  citizen  involved  an  exer- 
cise, the  finest  and  most  complete,  of  all  his  powers  of 
body,  soul,  and  mind ;  the  same  can  hardly  be  said  of 
the  life  of  a  county  councillor,  even  of  the  best  and  most 
conscientious    of   them.     And    the   conclusion   appears  to 


SUMMARY  125 

be,  that  that  fusion  of  public  and  private  life  which  was 
involved  in  the  ideal  of  the  Greek  citizen,  was  a  passing 
phase  in  the  history  of  the  world ;  that  the  state  can 
never  occupy  again  the  place  in  relation  to  the  individual 
which  it  held  in  the  cities  of  the  ancient  world ;  and  that 
an  attempt  to  identify  in  a  modern  state  the  ideal  of 
the  man  with  that  of  the  citizen,  would  be  an  historical 
anachronism. 

Nor  is  this  a  conclusion  which  need  be  regretted.  For 
as  the  sphere  of  the  state  shrinks,  it  is  possible  that  that 
of  the  individual  may  be  enlarged.  The  public  side  of 
human  life,  it  may  be  supposed,  will  become  more  and 
more  mechanical,  as  our  understanding  and  control  of 
social  forces  grow.  But  every  reduction  to  habit  and 
rule  of  what  were  once  spiritual  functions,  implies  the 
liberation  of  the  higher  powers  for  a  possible  activity  in 
other  regions.  And  if  advantage  were  taken  of  this 
opportunity,  the  inestimable  compensation  for  the  con- 
traction to  routine  of  the  life  of  the  citizen  would  be  the 
expansion  into  new  spheres  of  speculation  and  passion  of 
the  freer  and  more  individual  life  of  the  man. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  GREEK  VIEW   OF  THE  INDIVIDUAL 

§  I,   The  Greek  View  of  Manual  Labour  and  Trade, 

In  our  discussion  of  the  Greek  view  of  the  State  we 
noticed  the  tendency  both  of  the  theory  and  the  practice 
of  the  Greeks  to  separate  the  citizens  proper  from  the 
rest  of  the  community  as  a  distinct  and  aristocratic  class. 
And  this  tendency,  we  had  occasion  to  observe,  was  partly 
to  be  attributed  to  the  high  conception  which  the  Greeks 
had  formed  of  the  proper  excellence  of  man,  an  excellence 
which  it  was  the  function  of  the  citizen  to  realise  in  his 
own  person,  at  the  cost,  if  need  be,  of  the  other  members 
of  the  State.  This  Greek  conception  of  the  proper  excel- 
lence of  man  it  is  now  our  purpose  to  examine  more  closely. 
The  chief  point  that  strikes  us  about  the  Greek  ideal 
is  its  comprehensiveness.  Our  own  word  "  virtue "  is 
applied  only  to  moral  qualities ;  but  the  Greek  word  which 
we  so  translate  should  properly  be  rendered  "  excellence," 
and  includes  a  reference  to  the  body  as  well  as  to  the 
soul.  A  beautiful  soul,  housed  in  a  beautiful  body,  and 
supplied    with    all    the    external    advantages    necessary  to 

ia6 


■^"•'^it^mmma^^^mmH^^m^^'sai^ 


GREEK   VIEW  OF  MANUAL   LABOUR  1 27 

produce  and  perpetuate  such  a  combination — that  is  the 
Greek  conception  of  well-being;  and  it  is  because  labour 
with  the  hands  or  at  the  desk  distorts  or  impairs  the 
body,  and  the  petty  cares  of  a  calling  pursued  for  bread 
pervert  the  soul,  that  so  strong  a  contempt  was  felt  by 
the  Greeks  for  manual  labour  and  trade.  "  The  arts  that 
are  called  mechanical,"  says  Xenophon,  "are  also,  and 
naturally  enough,  held  in  bad  repute  in  our  cities.  For 
they  spoil  the  bodies  of  workers  and  superintendents  alike, 
compelling  them  to  live  sedentary  indoor  lives,  and  in  some 
cases  even  to  pass  their  days  by  the  fire.  And  as  their 
bodies  become  effeminate,  so  do  their  souls  also  grow  less 
robust.  Besides  this,  in  such  trades  one  has  no  leisure 
to  devote  to  the  care  of  one's  friends  or  of  one's  city. 
So  that  those  who  engage  in  them  are  thought  to  be  bad 
backers  of  their  friends  and  bad  defenders  of  their  country."  ^ 
In  a  similar  spirit  Plato  asserts  that  a  life  of  drudgery 
disfigures  the  body  and  mars  and  enervates  the  soul;' 
while  Aristotle  defines  a  mechanical  trade  as  one  which 
"renders  the  body  and  soul  or  intellect  of  free  persons 
unfit  for  the  exercise  and  practice  of  virtue ;"' and  denies 
to  the  artisan  not  merely  the  proper  excellence  of  man, 
but  any  excellence  of  any  kind,  on  the  plea  that  his 
occupation  and  status  is  unnatural,  and  that  he  misses 
even  that  reflex  of  human  virtue  which  a  slave  derives 
from  his  intimate  connection  with  his  master.* 

If  then  the   artisan  was  excluded  from  the  citizenship 

*Xen.  Oec.  iv.  3. 

•Plato,  Rep.  495. 

•Arist.  Pol.  V.   1337  b  8.~Translated  by  Welldon. 

*Ibid.  I.   1260  a  34. 


128  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

in  some  of  the  Greek  states,  and  even  in  the  most  demo- 
cratic of  them  never  altogether  threw  off  the  stigma  of 
inferiority  attaching  to  his  trade,  the  reason  was  that  the 
life  he  was  compelled  to  lead  was  incompatible  with  the 
Greek  conception  of  excellence.  That  conception  we 
will  now  proceed  to  examine  a  little  more  in  detail. 

§  2.  Appreciation  of  External  Goods. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Greek  ideal  required  for  its 
realisation  a  solid  basis  of  external  Goods.  It  recognised 
frankly  the  dependence  of  man  upon  the  world  of  sense, 
and  the  contribution  to  his  happiness  of  elements  over  which 
he  had  at  best  but  a  partial  control.  Not  that  it  placed 
his  Good  outside  himself,  in  riches,  power,  and  other  such 
appendages ;  but  that  it  postulated  certain  gifts  of  fortune 
as  necessary  means  to  his  self-development.  Of  these  the 
chief  were,  a  competence,  to  secure  him  against  sordid 
cares,  health,  to  ensure  his  physical  excellence,  and 
children,  to  support  and  protect  him  in  old  age.  Aristotle's 
definition  of  the  happy  man  is  "  one  whose  activity  accords 
with  perfect  virtue  and  who  is  adequately  furnished  with 
external  goods,  not  for  a  casual  period  of  time  but  for  a 
complete  or  perfect  life-time ;  "  *  and  he  remarks,  some- 
what caustically,  that  those  who  say  that  a  man  on  the 
rack  would  be  happy  if  only  he  were  good,  intentionally 
or  unintentionally  are  talking  nonsense.  That  here,  as  else- 
where, Aristotle  represents  the  common  Greek  view  we  have 
abundant  testimony  from  other  sources.  Even  Plato,  in 
whom  there  runs  so  clear  a  vein  of  asceticism,  follows  the 
popular  judgment  in  reckoning  high  among  goods,  first,  health, 
then  beauty,  then  skill  and  strength  in  physical  exercises, 

*Arist.  Ethics.  I.   ii.    iioi   a   14, — Translated  by  "Welldon, 


*'^2 


APPRECIATION   OF   EXTERNAL   GOODS  129 

and  lastly  wealth,  if  it  be  not  blind  but  illumined  by  the 
eye  of  reason.  To  these  Goods  must  be  added,  to  com- 
plete the  scale,  success  and  reputation,  topics  which  are 
the  constant  theme  of  the  poets'  eulogy.  "Two  things 
alone  there  are,"  says  Pindar,  "that  cherish  life's  bloom 
to  its  utmost  sweetness  amidst  the  fair  flowers  of  wealth — 
to  have  good  success  and  to  win  therefore  fair  fame ;  "  ^ 
and  the  passage  represents  his  habitual  attitude.  That  the 
gifts  of  fortune,  both  personal  and  external,  are  an  essen- 
tial condition  of  excellence,  is  an  axiom  of  the  point  of 
view  of  the  Greeks.  But  on  the  other  hand  we  never  find 
them  misled  into  the  conception  that  such  gifts  are  an  end 
in  themselves,  apart  from  the  personal  qualities  they  are 
meant  to  support  or  adorn.  The  oriental  ideal  of  unli- 
mited wealth  and  power,  enjoyed  merely  for  its  own  sake, 
never  appealed  to  their  fine  and  lucid  judgment.  Nothing 
could  better  illustrate  this  point  than  the  anecdote  related 
by  Herodotus  of  the  interview  between  Solon  and  Croesus, 
King  of  Lydia.  Croesus,  proud  of  his  boundless  wealth, 
asks  the  Greek  stranger  who  is  the  happiest  man  on 
earth  ?  expecting  to  hear  in  reply  his  own  name.  Solon, 
however,  answers  with  the  name  of  Tellus,  the  Athenian, 
giving  his  reasons  in  the  following  speech  : 

"First,  because  his  country  was  flourishing  in  his  days, 
and  he  himself  had  sons  both  beautiful  and  good,  and  he 
lived  to  see  children  bom  to  each  of  them,  and  these 
children  all  grew  up ;  and  further  because,  after  a  life  spent 
in  what  our  people  look  upon  as  comfort,  his  end  was 
surpassingly  glorious.  In  a  battle  between  the  Athenians 
and  their  neighbours  near  Eleusis,  he  came  to  the  as- 
sistance of  his  countrymen,  routed  the  foe,  and  died  upon 
'Pind.  Isth.  iv.   14. — Translated  by  E.  Myers. 


I 


I30  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

the  field  most  gallantly.  The  Athenians  gave  him  a  public 
funeral  on  the  spot  where  he  fell,  and  paid  him  the 
highest  honours." 

Later  on  in  the  discussion  Solon  defines  the  happy  man 
as  he  who  "  Is  whole  of  limb,  a  stranger  to  disease,  free 
from  misfortune,  happy  in  his  children,  and  comely  to 
look  upon,"  and  who  also  ends  his  life  well.* 

§  J.  Appreciation  of  Physical  Qualities. 

While,  however,  the  gifts  of  a  happy  fortune  are  an  essen- 
tial condition  of  the  Greek  ideal,  they  are  not  to  be  mistaken 
for  the  ideal  itself.  "A  beautiful  soul  in  a  beautiful 
body,"  to  recur  to  our  former  phrase,  is  the  real  end 
and  aim  of  their  endeavour.  "  Beautiful  and  good  "  is  their 
habitual  way  of  describing  what  we  should  call  a  gentleman ; 
and  no  expression  could  better  represent  what  they  admired. 
With  ourselves,  in  spite  of  our  addiction  to  athletics, 
the  body  takes  a  secondary  place;  after  a  certain  age, 
at  least,  there  are  few  men  who  make  its  systematic 
cultivation  an  important  factor  of  their  life;  and  in  our 
estimate  of  merit  physical  qualities  are  accorded  either 
none  or  the  very  smallest  weight.  It  was  otherwise  with 
the  Greeks;  to  them  a  good  body  was  the  necessary 
correlative  of  a  good  soul.  Balance  was  what  they  aimed 
at,  balance  and  harmony ;  and  they  could  scarcely  believe 
in  the  beauty  of  the  spirit,  unless  it  were  reflected  in  the 
beauty  of  the  flesh.  The  point  is  well  put  by  Plato,  the  most 
spiritually  minded  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  least  apt  to 
underprize  the  qualities  of  the  soul. 

"Surely  then,"   he  says,   "to  him   who  has  an  eye  to 

*  Herodotus,  I.  30.  32. — Translated  by  Rawlinson. 


ui  jiw    ^1* 


GREEK   ATHLETICS  15I 

see,  there  can  be  no  fairer  spectacle  than  that  of  a  man 
who  combines  the  possession  of  moral  beauty  in  his  soul 
with  outward  beauty  of  form,  corresponding  and  harmon- 
izing with  the  former,  because  the  same  great  pattern 
enters  into  both. 

"  There  can  be  none  so  fair. 

"And  you  will  grant  that  what  is  fairest  is  loveliest? 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is. 

"Then  the  truly  musical  person  will  love  those  who 
combine  most  perfectly  moral  and  physical  beauty,  but 
will  not  love  any  one  in  whom  there  is  dissonance. 

"  No,  not  if  there  be  any  defect  in  the  soul,  but  if  it 
is  only  a  bodily  blemish,  he  may  so  bear  with  it  as  to  be 
willing  to  regard  it  with  complacency. 

"  I  understand  that  you  have  now,  or  have  had,  a 
favourite  of  this  kind;  so  I  give  way.''^ 

The  reluctance  of  the  admission  that  a  physical  defect 
may  possibly  be  overlooked  is  as  significant  as  the  rest  of 
the  passage.  Body  and  soul,  it  is  clear,  are  regarded  as 
aspects  of  a  single  whole,  so  that  a  blemish  in  the  one  in- 
dicates and  involves  a  blemish  in  the  other.  The  training 
of  the  body  is  thus,  in  a  sense,  the  training  of  the  soul, 
and  gymnastic  and  music,  as  Plato  puts  it,  serve  the  same 
end,  the  production  of  a  harmonious  temperament. 

§  4.  Greek  Athletics, 

It  is  this  conception  which  gives,  or  appears  at  least 
in  the  retrospect  to  give,  a  character  so  gracious  and  fine 
to  Greek  athletics.  In  fact,  if  we  look  more  closely  into 
the  character  of  the  public  games  in  Greece  we  see  that  they 
were  so  surrounded  and  transfused  by  an  atmosphere  of  imag- 
'  Plato,  Rep.  402.  — Translated  by  Davies  and  Vaughan. 


132  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

ination  that  their  appeal  must  have  been  as  much  to  the 
aesthetic  as  to  the  physical  sense.  For  in  the  first  place  those 
great  gymnastic  contests  in  which  all  Hellas  took  part, 
and  which  gave  the  tone  to  their  whole  athletic  life,  were 
primarily  religious  festivals.  The  Olympic  and  Nemean 
Games  were  held  in  honour  of  Zeus,  the  Pythian,  of 
Apollo,  the  Isthmean,  of  Poseidon.  In  the  enclosures  in 
which  they  took  place  stood  temples  of  the  gods;  and 
sacrifice,  prayer,  and  choral  hymn  were  the  back-ground 
against  which  tliey  were  set.  And  since  in  Greece  religion 
implied  art,  in  the  wake  of  the  athlete  followed  the  sculptor 
and  the  poet.  The  colossal  Zeus  of  Pheidias,  the  wonder 
of  the  ancient  world,  flashed  from  the  precincts  of  Olympia 
its  glory  of  ivory  and  gold ;  temples  and  statues  broke 
the  brilliant  light  into  colour  and  form ;  and  under  that 
vibrating  heaven  of  beauty,  the  loveliest  nature  crowned 
with  the  finest  art,  shifted  and  shone  what  was  in  itself  a 
perfect  type  of  both,  the  grace  of  harmonious  motion  in 
naked  youths  and  men.  For  in  Greek  athletics,  by  virtue 
of  the  practice  of  contending  nude,  the  contest  itself  became 
a  work  of  art;  and  not  only  did  sculptors  draw  from  it 
an  inspiration  such  as  has  been  felt  by  no  later  age,  but 
to  the  combatants  themselves,  and  the  spectators,  the  plastic 
beauty  of  the  human  form  grew  to  be  more  than  its 
prowess  or  its  strength,  and  gymnastic  became  a  training  in 
aesthetics  as  much  as,  or  more  than,  in  physical  excellence. 
And  as  with  the  contest,  so  with  the  reward,  everything 
was  designed  to  appeal  to  the  sensuous  imagination.  The 
prize  formally  adjudged  was  symbolical  only,  a  crown  of 
olive;  but  the  real  triumph  of  the  victor  was  the  ode  in 
which  his  praise  was  sung,  the  procession  of  happy 
comrades,  and  the  evening  festival,  when,  as  Pindar  has  it, 


GREEK   ATHLETICS  1 33 

•the  lovely  shining  of  the  fair-faced  moon  beamed  forth, 
and  all  the  precinct  sounded  with  songs  of  festal  glee,"* 
or  "  beside  Kastaly  in  the  evening  his  name  burnt  bright, 
when  the  glad  sounds  of  the  Graces  rose."' 

Of  the  Graces !  for  these  were  the  powers  who  presided 
over  the  world  of  Greek  athletics.  Here,  for  example,  is 
the  opening  of  one  of  Pindar's  odes,  typical  of  the  spirit 
m  which  he  at  least  conceived  the  functions  of  the  chroni- 
cler of  sport: 

"  O  ye  who  haunt  the  land  of  goodly  steeds  that  drinketh 
of  Kephisos'  waters,  lusty  Orchomenos'  Queens  renowned  in 
song,  O  Graces,  guardians  of  the  Minyai's  ancient  race, 
hearken,  for  unto  you  I  pray.  For  by  your  gift  come  unto  men 
all  pleasant  things  and  sweet,  and  the  wisdom  of  a  man  and  his 
beauty,  and  the  splendour  of  his  fame.  Yea,  even  gods 
without  the  Graces'  aid  rule  never  at  feast  or  dance;  but 
these  have  charge  of  all  things  done  in  heaven,  and  beside 
Pythian  Apollo  of  the  golden  bow  they  have  set  their 
thrones,  and  worship  the  eternal  majesty  of  the  Olympian 
Father.  O  lady  Aglaia,  and  thou  Euphrosyne,  lover  of 
song,  children  of  the  mightiest  of  the  gods,  listen  and 
hear,  and  thou  Thalia  delighting  in  sweet  sounds,  and 
look  down  upon  this  triumphal  company,  moving  with 
light  step  under  happy  fate.  In  Lydian  mood  of  melody 
concerning  Asopichos  am  I  come  hither  to  sing,  for  that 
through  thee,  Aglaia,  in  the  Olympic  games  the  Minyai's 
home  is  winner."' 

This  is  but  a  single  passage  among  many  that  might 
be    quoted  to  illustrate  the  point  we  are  endeavouring  to 

'Pindar,  Ol.  xi.  90. — Translated  by  Myers 

'Pindar,  Nero.  6.   65. 

•  Pindar,  01      xiv. — Translated  by  Myers. 


134  "^HE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

bring  into  relief— the  conscious  predominance  in  the  Greek 
games  of  that  element  of  poetry  and  art  which  is  either 
not  present  at  all  in  modern  sport  or  at  best  is  a  happy 
accessory  of  chance.  The  modern  man,  and  especially 
the  Englishman,  addicts  himself  to  athletics,  as  to  other 
avocations,  with  a  certain  stolidity  of  gaze  on  the 
immediate  end  which  tends  to  confine  him  to  the 
purely  physical  view  of  his  pursuit.  The  Greek,  an 
artist  by  nature,  lifted  his  not  less  strenuous  sports  into 
an  air  of  finer  sentiment,  touched  them  with  the  poetry 
of  legend  and  the  grace  of  art  and  song,  and  even  to 
his  most  brutal  contests— for  brutal  some  of  them  were — 
imparted  so  rich  an  atmosphere  of  beauty,  that  they  could 
be  admitted  as  fit  themes  for  dedication  to  the  Graces  by 
the  choice  and  spiritual  genius  of  Pindar. 

§  5.    Greek  Ethics— Identification  of  the  Esthetic 
and  Ethical  Points  of  View. 

And  as  with  the  excellence  of  the  body,  so  with  that 
of  the  soul,  the  conception  that  dominated  the  mind  of 
the  Greeks  was  primarily  sesthetic.  In  speaking  of  their 
religion  we  have  already  remarked  that  they  had  no 
sense  of  sin;  and  we  may  now  add  that  they  had  no 
sense  of  duty.  Moral  virtue  they  conceived  not  as  obedience 
to  an  external  law,  a  sacrifice  of  the  natural  man  to  a 
power  that  in  a  sense  is  alien  to  himself,  but  rather  as 
the  tempering  into  due  proportion  of  the  elements  of  which 
human  nature  is  composed.  The  good  man  was  the  man 
who  was  beautiful— beautiful  in  soul.  "Virtue,"  says 
Plato,  "will  be  a  kmd  of  health  and  beauty  and  good 
habit  of  the  soul;  and  vice  will  be  a  disease  and  defonnity 


_7 


GREEK   ETHICS  1 35 

and  sickness  of  it."*  It  follows  that  it  is  as  natural  to 
seek  virtue  and  to  avoid  vice  as  to  seek  health  and  to 
avoid  disease.  There  is  no  question  of  a  struggle  between 
opposite  principles;  the  distinction  of  good  and  evil  is  one 
of  order  or  confusion,  among  elements  which  in  themselves 
are  neither  good  nor  bad. 

This  conception  of  virtue  we  find  expressed  in  many 
forms,  but  always  with  the  same  underlying  idea.  A 
favourite  watch -word  with  the  Greeks  is  the  "  middle"  or 
"mean",  the  exact  point  of  Tightness  between  two  ex- 
tremes. "Nothing  in  excess,"  was  a  motto  inscribed  over 
the  temple  of  Delphi;  and  none  could  be  more  charac- 
teristic of  the  ideal  of  these  lovers  of  proportion. 
Aristotle,  indeed,  has  made  it  the  basis  of  his  whole  the- 
ory of  ethics.  In  his  conception,  virtue  is  the  mean,  vice 
the  excess  lying  on  either  side — courage,  for  example,  the 
mean  between  foolhardiness  and  cowardice,  temperance, 
between  incontinence  and  insensibility,  generosity,  between 
extravagance  and  meanness.  The  various  phases  of  feeling 
and  the  various  kinds  of  action  he  analyses  minutely  on 
this  principle,  understanding  always  by  "  the  mean"  that 
which  adapts  itself  in  the  due  proportion  to  the  circum- 
stances and  requirements  of  every  case. 

The  interest  of  this  view  for  us  lies  in  its  assumption 
that  it  is  not  passions  or  desires  in  themselves  that  must 
be  regarded  as  bad,  but  only  their  disproportional  or 
misdirected  indulgence.  Let  us  take,  for  example,  the  case 
of  the  pleasures  of  sense.  The  puritan's  rule  is  to  abjure 
them  altogether;  to  him  they  are  absolutely  wrong  in 
themselves,  apart  from  all  considerations  of  time  and  place. 
Aristotle,  on  the  contrary,  enjoins  not  renunciation  but 
'  Plato,  Rep.  444. — Translated  by  Davies  and  Vaughan. 


136  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

temperance;  and  defines  the  temperate  man  as  one  who 
"  holds  a  mean  position  in  respect  of  pleasures.  He  takes 
no  pleasure  in  the  things  in  which  the  licentious  man 
takes  most  pleasure;  he  rather  dislikes  them;  nor  does 
he  take  pleasure  at  all  in  wrong  things,  nor  an  excessive 
pleasure  in  anything  that  is  pleasant,  nor  is  he  pained  at 
the  absence  of  such  things,  nor  does  he  desire  them, 
except  perhaps  in  moderation,  nor  does  he  desire  them 
more  than  is  right,  or  at  the  wrong  time,  and  so  on. 
But  he  will  be  eager  in  a  moderate  and  right  spirit  for 
all  such  things  as  are  pleasant  and  at  the  same  time  con- 
ducive to  health  or  to  a  sound  bodily  condition,  and  for 
all  other  pleasures,  so  long  as  they  are  not  prejudicial  to 
these  or  inconsistent  with  noble  conduct  or  extravagant 
beyond  his  means.  For  unless  a  person  limits  himself  in 
this  way,  he  affects  such  pleasures  more  than  is  right, 
whereas  the  temperate  man  follows  the  guidance  of  right 
reason."* 

As  another  illustration  of  this  point  of  view,  we  may 
take  the  case  of  anger.  The  Christian  rule  is  never 
to  resent  an  injury,  but  rather,  in  the  New  Testament 
phrase,  to  "  turn  the  other  cheek."  Aristotle,  while  blaming 
the  man  who  is  unduly  passionate,  blames  equally  the 
man  who  is  insensitive ;  the  thing  to  aim  at  is  to  be  angry 
"  on  the  proper  occasions  and  with  the  proper  people  in  the 
proper  manner  and  for  the  proper  length  of  time."  And  in 
this  and  all  other  cases  the  definition  of  what  is  proper 
must  be  left  to  the  determination  of  "the  sensible  man." 

Thus,  in  place  of  a  series  of  hard  and  fast  rules,  a 
rigid    and    uncompromising    distinction    of   acts    and    af- 

'Arist.  Ethics.  HE.  14. — H19  a  ii. — Translated  by  Welldon. 


•"Ml 


GREEK  ETHICS  137 

fections  into  good  and  bad,  the  former  to  be  absolutely 
chosen  and  the  latter  absolutely  eschewed,  Aristotle 
presents  us  with  the  general  type  of  a  subtle  and  shifting 
problem,  the  solution  of  which  must  be  worked  out  afresh 
by  each  individual  in  each  particular  case.  Conduct  to 
him  is  a  free  and  living  creature,  and  not  a  machine 
controlled  by  fixed  laws.  Every  life  is  a  work  of  art 
shaped  by  the  man  who  lives  it;  according  to  the  faculty 
of  the  artist  will  be  the  quality  of  his  work,  and  no  general 
rules  can  supply  the  place  of  his  own  direct  perception 
at  every  turn.  The  Good  is  the  right  proportion,  the 
right  manner  and  occasion;  the  Bad  is  all  that  varies 
from  this  "  right."  But  the  elements  of  human  nature  in 
themselves  are  neither  good  nor  bad ;  they  are  merely  the 
raw  material  out  of  which  the  one  or  the  other  may  be 
shaped. 

The  idea  thus  formulated  by  Aristotle  is  typically  Greek. 
In  another  form  it  is  the  basis  of  the  ethical  philosophy 
of  Plato,  who  habitually  regards  virtue  as  a  kind  of  "  order." 
"  The  virtue  of  each  thing, "  he  says,  "  whether  body  or 
soul,  instrument  or  creature,  when  given  to  them  in  the 
best  way  comes  to  them  not  by  chance  but  as  the  result 
of  the  order  and  truth  and  art  which  are  imparted  to 
them."^  And  the  conception  here  indicated,  is  worked  out 
in  detail  in  his  Republic.  There,  after  distinguishing  in  the 
soul  three  principles  or  powers,  reason,  passion,  and  de- 
sire, he  defines  justice  as  the  maintenance  among  them 
of  their  proper  mutual  relation,  each  moving  in  its  own 
place  and  doing  its  appropriate  work  as  is,  or  should  be, 
the  case  with  the  diflerent  classes  in  a  state. 

"  The  just  man  will  not  permit  the  several  principles 
*  Plato,  Gorgias,  506  d. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


13^  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

within  him  to  do  any  work  but  their  own,  nor  allow  the 
distinct  classes  in  his  soul  to  interfere  with  each  other, 
but  will  really  set  his  house  in  order;  and  having  gained 
the  mastery  over  himself,  will  so  regulate  his  own  charac- 
ter as  to  be  on  good  terms  with  himself,  and  to  set  those 
three  principles  in  tune  together,  as  if  they  were  verily 
three  chords  of  a  harmony,  a  higher  and  a  lower  and  a 
middle,  and  whatever  may  lie  between  these;  and  after 
he  has  bound  all  these  together,  and  reduced  the  many 
elements  of  his  nature  to  a  real  unity,  as  a  temperate  and 
duly  harmonized  man,  he  will  then  at  length  proceed  to 
do  whatever  he  may  have  to  do."* 

Plato,  it  is  true,  in  other  parts  of  his  work,  approaches 
more  closely  to  the  dualistic  conception  of  an  absolute 
opposition  between  good  and  bad  principles  in  man.  Yet 
even  so,  he  never  altogether  abandons  that  aesthetic  point 
of  view  which  looks  to  the  establishment  of  order  among 
the  conflicting  principles  rather  than  to  the  annihilation 
of  one  by  the  other  in  an  internecine  conflict.  The  point 
may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  passage,  where  the  two 
horses  represent  respectively  the  elements  of  fleshly 
desire  and  spiritual  passion,  while  the  charioteer  stands 
for  the  controlling  reason;  and  where,  it  will  be  noticed, 
the  ultimate  harmony  is  achieved,  not  by  the  complete 
eradication  of  desire,  but  by  its  due  subordination  to  the 
higher  principle.  Even  Plato,  the  most  ascetic  of  the 
Greeks,  is  a  Greek  first  and  an  ascetic  afterwards. 

**0f  the  nature  of  the  soul,  though  her  true  form  be 
ever  a  theme  of  large  and  more  than  mortal  discourse,  let 
me   speak   briefly,    and  in  a  figure,  and  let  the  figure  be 

*  Plato,    Rep.    IV.  443. — Translation  by  Davies  and  Vaughau. 


GREEK   ETHICS  1 39 

composite — a  pair  of  winged  horses  and  a  charioteer. 
Now  the  winged  horses  and  the  charioteers  of  the  gods 
are  all  of  them  noble  and  of  noble  descent,  but  those  of 
other  races  are  mixed;  the  human  charioteer  drives  his 
in  a  pair;  and  one  of  them  is  noble  and  of  noble  breed, 
and  the  other  is  ignoble  and  of  ignoble  breed;  and  the 
driving  of  them  of  necessity  gives  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to 

him The  right  hand  horse  is  upright  and  cleanly  made; 

he  has  a  lofty  neck  and  an  aquiline  nose;  his  colour  is  white, 
and  his  eyes  dark;  he  is  a  lover  of  honour  and  modesty 
and  temperance,  and  the  follower  of  true  glory ;  he  needs 
no  touch  of  the  whip,  but  is  guided  by  word  and  admoni- 
tion only.  The  other  is  a  crooked  lumbering  animal,  put 
together  anyhow;  he  has  a  short  thick  neck;  he  is  flat- 
faced  and  of  a  dark  colour,  with  grey  eyes  and  blood-red 
complexion;  the  mate  of  insolence  and  pride,  shag-eared 
and  deaf,  hardly  yielding  to  whip  and  spur.  Now  when 
the  charioteer  beholds  the  vision  of  love,  and  has  his 
whole  soul  warmed  through  sense,  and  is  full  of  the 
prickings  and  ticklings  of  desire,  the  obedient  steed,  then 
as  always  under  the  government  of  shame,  refrains  from 
leaping  on  the  beloved;  but  the  other,  heedless  of  the 
blows  of  the  whip,  plunges  and  runs  away,  giving  all 
manner  of  trouble  to  his  companion  and  the  charioteer, 
whom  he  forces  to  approach  the  beloved  and  to  remember 
the  joys  of  love.  They  at  first  indignantly  oppose  him 
and  will  not  be  urged  on  to  do  terrible  and  unlawful 
deeds ;  but  at  last,  when  he  persists  in  plaguing  them, 
they  yield  and  agree  to  do  as  he  bids  them.  And  now 
they  are  at  the  spot  and  behold  the  flashing  beauty  of 
the  beloved;  which  when  the  charioteer  sees,  his  memory 
is  carried  to  the  true  beauty  whom  he  beholds  in  company 


I40  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

with  Modesty  like  an  image  placed  upon  a  holy  pedestal 
He  sees  her,  but  he  is  afraid  and  falls  backwards  in 
adoration,  and  by  his  fall  is  compelled  to  pull  back  the 
reins  with  such  violence  as  to  bring  both  the  steeds  on 
their  haunches,  the  one  willing  and  unresisting,  the  unruly 
one  very  unwilling;  and  when  they  have  gone  back  a 
little,  the  one  is  overcome  with  shame  and  wonder,  and 
his  whole  soul  is  bathed  in  perspiration;  the  other,  when 
the  pain  is  over  which  the  bridle  and  the  fall  had  given 
him,  having  with  difficulty  taken  breath,  is  full  of  wrath 
and  reproaches,  which  he  heaps  upon  the  charioteer  and 
his  fellow-steed,  for  want  of  courage  and  manhood, 
declaring  that  they  have  been  false  to  their  agreement 
and  guilty  of  desertion.  Again  they  refuse,  and  again  he 
urges  them  on,  and  will  scarce  yield  to  their  prayer  that 
he  would  wait  until  another  time.  When  the  appointed 
hour  comes,  they  make  as  if  they  had  forgotten,  and  he 
reminds  them,  fighting  and  neighing  and  dragging  them 
on,  until  at  length  he  on  the  same  thoughts  intent,  forces 
them  to  draw  near  again.  And  when  they  are  near  he 
stoops  his  head  and  puts  up  his  tail,  and  takes  the  bit  in 
his  teeth  and  pulls  shamelessly.  Then  the  charioteer  is 
worse  off  than  ever;  he  falls  back  like  a  racer  at  the 
barrier,  and  with  a  still  more  violent  wrench  drags 
the  bit  out  of  the  teeth  of  the  wild  steed  and  covers 
his  abusive  jaws  and  tongue  with  blood,  and  forces 
his  legs  and  haunches  to  the  ground  and  punishes  him 
sorely. 

"And  when  this  has  happened  several  times  and  the 
villain  has  ceased  from  his  wanton  way,  he  is  tamed  and 
humbled  and  follows  the  will  of  the  charioteer,  and  when 
,he  sees  the  beautiful  one  he  is  ready  to  die  of  fear.     And 


l«ft«#*«»H*Vf  »*l^«4ft««V  - 


GREEK   ETHICS  I41 

from  that  time  forward  the  soul  of  the  lover  loUows  the 
beloved  in  modesty  and  holy  fear."  * 

Even  from  this  passage,  in  spite  of  its  dualistic  hy- 
pothesis, but  far  more  clearly  from  the  whole  tenor  of  his 
work,  we  may  perceive  that  Plato's  description  of  virtue  as 
an  "  order  "  of  the  soul  is  prompted  by  the  same  conception, 
characteristically  Greek,  as  Aristotle's  account  of  virtue  as 
a  "  mean.**  The  view,  as  we  said  at  the  beginning,  iS 
properly  aesthetic  rather  than  moral.  It  regards  life  less 
as  a  battle  between  two  contending  principles,  in  which 
victory  means  the  annihilation  of  the  one,  the  altogether 
bad,  by  the  other,  the  altogether  good,  than  as  the  mainten- 
ance of  a  balance  between  elements  neutral  in  themselves 
but  capable,  according  as  their  relations  are  rightly  or- 
dered or  the  reverse,  of  producing  either  that  harmony 
which  is  called  virtue,  or  that  discord  which  is  called 
vice. 

Such  being  the  conception  of  virtue  characteristic  of  the 
Greeks,  it  follows  that  the  motive  to  pursue  it  can  hardly 
have  presented  itself  to  them  in  the  form  of  what  we  call 
the  "sense  of  duty."  For  duty  emphasises  self- repres- 
sion. Against  the  desires  of  man  it  sets  a  law  of  prohi- 
bition, a  law  which  is  not  conceived  as  that  of  his  own 
complete  nature,  asserting  against  a  partial  or  disproportioned 
development  the  balance  and  totality  of  the  ideal,  but 
rather  as  a  rule  imposed  from  without  by  a  power  distinct 
from  himself,  for  the  mortification,  not  the  perfecting,  of 
his  natural  impulses  and  aims.  Duty  emphasises  self- 
repression;  the  Greek  view  emphasised  self-development. 
That  "health  and  beauty  and  good  habit  of  the  soul," 
which  is  Plato's  ideal,  is  as  much  its  own  recommencia- 
*  Plato,  Phaednis.   246. — Trauslated  by  JowcU, 


142  THE   GP^iiK   VI£W   OF    LIFE 

tion  to  tlie  natural  man  as  is  the  health  and  beauty  of 
the  body.  Vice,  on  this  view,  is  condemned  because  it 
iij  a  frustration  of  nature,  virtue  praised  because  it  is  her 
fulfilment;  and  the  motive  throughout  is  simply  that  passion 
to  realise  oneself  which  is  commonly  acknowledged  as 
sufficient  in  the  case  of  physical  development,  and  which 
appeared  sufficient  to  the  Greeks  in  the  case  of  the 
development  of  the  soul. 

§  6.     The  Greek   View  of  Pie  astir  e. 

From  all  this  it  follows  clearly  enough  that  the  Greek 
ideal  was  far  removed  from  asceticism;  but  it  might  per- 
haps be  supposed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  it  came  dan- 
<^erously  near  to  license.  Nothing,  however,  could  be  fur- 
ther from  the  case.  That  there  were  libertines  among  the 
Greeks,  as  everywhere  else,  goes  without  saying ;  but  the 
conception  that  the  Greek  rule  of  life  was  to  follow 
impulse  and  abandon  restraint  is  a  figment  of  would-be 
"Hellenists"  of  our  own  time.  The  word  which  best 
sums  up  the  ideal  of  the  Greeks  is  "  temperance  " ;  "  the 
mean,"  "order,"  "harmony,"  as  we  saw,  are  its  charac- 
teristic expressions;  and  the  self-realisation  to  which  they 
aspired  was  not  an  anarchy  of  passion,  but  an  ordered 
evolution  of  the  natural  faculties  under  the  strict  control 
of  a  balanced  mind.  The  point  may  be  illustrated  by 
a  reference  to  the  treatment  of  pleasure  in  the  philosophy 
of  Plato  and  of  Aristotle. 

The  practice  of  the  libertine  is  to  identify  pleasure  and 
good  in  such  a  manner  that  he  pursues  at  any  moment 
any  pleasure  that  presents  itself,  eschewing  comparison  and 
reflection,  with  all  that  might  tend  to  check  that  continuous 


THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  PLEASURE  143 

flow  of  vivid  and  fresh  sensations  which  he  postulates  as 
the  end  of  Ufe.  The  ideal  of  the  Greeks,  on  the  contrary, 
as  interpreted  by  their  two  greatest  thinkers,  while  on  the 
one  hand  it  is  so  far  opposed  to  asceticism  that  it  re- 
quires pleasure  as  an  essential  complement  of  Good,  on  the 
other,  is  so  far  from  identifying  the  two,  that  it  recognises 
an  ordered  scale  of  pleasures,  and  while  rejecting  altogether 
those  at  the  lower  end,  admits  the  rest,  not  as  in  them 
selves  constituting  the  Good,  but  rather  as  harmless  additions 
or  at  most  as  necessary  accompaniments  of  its  opera- 
tion. Plato,  in  the  Republic,  distinguishes  between  the 
necessary  and  unnecessary  pleasures,  defining  the  former 
as  those  derived  from  the  gratification  of  appetites  "  which 
we  cannot  get  rid  of  and  whose  satisfaction  does  us 
good" — such,  for  example,  as  the  appetite  for  wholesome 
food;  and  the  latter  as  those  which  belong  to  appetites 
"  which  we  can  put  away  from  us  by  early  training ;  and 
the  presence  of  which,  besides,  never  does  us  any  good,  and 
in  some  cases  does  positive  harm,  " — such,  for  example, 
as  the  appetite  for  delicate  and  luxurious  dishes.  ^  The 
former  he  would  admit,  the  latter  he  excludes  from  his 
ideal  of  happiness.  And  though  in  a  later  dialogue,  the 
Philebus,  he  goes  further  than  this,  and  would  exclude 
from  the  perfect  life  all  pleasures  except  those  which  he 
describes  as  "  pure,"  that  is  those  which  attend  upon  the 
contemplation  of  form  and  colour  and  sound,  or  which 
accompany  intellectual  activity;  yet  here,  no  doubt,  he 
is  passing  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  practicable  ideal,  and 
his  distinct  personal  bias  towards  asceticism  must  be  dis- 
counted  if  we  are   to   take  him   as  representative  of  the 

*Plato,  Rep.  VIII.   558. — Translated  by  Davies  and  Vaiighan, 


144  THE   GREEK   VIEW    OF  LIFE 

Greek  view.  His  general  contention,  however,  that 
pleasures  must  be  ranked  as  higher  and  as  lower,  and 
that  at  the  best  they  are  not  to  be  identified  with  the 
Good,  is  fully  accepted  by  so  typical  a  Greek  as  Aristotle. 
Aristotle,  however,  is  careful  not  to  condemn  any  pleasure 
that  is  not  definitely  hannful.  Even  "  unnecessary " 
pleasures,  he  admits,  may  be  desirable  in  themselves;  even 
the  deliberate  creation  of  desire  with  a  view  to  the 
enjoyment  of  satisfying  it  may  be  admissible  if  it  is  not 
injurious.  Still,  there  are  kinds  of  pleasures  which  ought 
not  to  be  pursued,  and  occasions  and  methods  of  seeking 
it  which  are  improper  and  perverse.  Therefore  the  Reason 
must  be  always  at  hand  to  check  and  to  control ;  and  the 
ultimate  test  of  true  worth  in  pleasure,  as  in  everything 
else,  is  the  trained  judgment  of  the  good  and  sensible  man. 

§  y.  Illustrations — Ischomachus ;  Socrates. 

Such,  then,  was  the  character  of  the  Greek  conception 
of  excellence.  The  account  we  have  given  may  seem 
somewhat  abstract  and  ideal;  but  it  gives  the  general 
formula  of  the  life  which  every  cultivated  Greek  would  at 
any  rate  have  wished  to  live.  And  in  confirmation  of  this 
point  we  may  adduce  the  testimony  of  Xenophon,  who 
has  left  us  a  description,  evidently  drawn  from  life,  of 
what  he  conceives  to  be  the  perfect  type  of  a  "  gentleman." 

The  interest  of  the  account  lies  in  the  fact,  that  Xenophon 
himself  was  clearly  an  "average"  Greek,  one,  that  is  to 
say,  of  good  natural  parts,  of  perfectly  normal  faculties  and 
tastes,  undisturbed  by  any  originality  of  character  or  mind, 
and  representing  therefore,  as  we  may  fairly  assert,  the 
ordinary  views  and  aims  of  an  upright  and  competent  man  of 
the  world.     His  description  of  the  "gentleman,"  therefore, 


ITLUSTI^JVTIONS— ISCHOMACHUS ;  SOCl^ATES        1 45 

may  be  taken  as  a  representative  account  of  the  recognised 
ideal  of  all  that  class  of  Athenian  citizens.  And  this  is 
how  the  gentleman  in  question,  Ischomachus,  describes 
his  course  of  life. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  says,  "  I  worship  the  gods. 
Next,  I  endeavour  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  assisted  by 
prayer,  to  get  health  and  strength  of  body,  reputation  in 
the  city,  good  will  among  my  friends,  honourable  security 
in  battle  and  an  honourable  increase  of  fortune." 

At  this  point  Socrates,  who  is  supposed  to  be  the  inter- 
locutor, interrupts.  "Do  you  really  covet  wealth,"  he 
asks,  "with  all  the  trouble  it  involves?"  " Certainly  I  do," 
is  the  reply,  "  for  it  enables  me  to  honour  the  gods  magnifi- 
cently, to  help  my  friends  if  they  are  in  want,  and  to  con- 
tribute to  the  resources  of  my  country." 

Here  definitely  and  precisely  expressed  is  the  ideal 
of  the  Athenian  gentleman — the  beautiful  body  housing 
the  beautiful  soul,  the  external  aids  of  fortune,  friends, 
and  the  like,  and  the  realisation  of  the  individual  self  in 
public  activity.  Upon  it  follows  an  account  of  the  way 
in  which  Ischomachus  was  accustomed  to  pass  his  days. 
He  rises  early,  he  tells  us,  to  catch  his  friends  before  they 
go  out,  or  walks  to  the  city  to  transact  his  necessary 
business.  If  he  is  not  called  into  town,  he  pays  a  visit 
to  his  farm,  walking  for  the  sake  of  exercise  and  sending 
on  his  horse.  On  his  arrival  he  gives  directions  about 
the  sowing,  ploughing,  or  whatever  it  may  be,  and  then 
mounting  his  horse  practices  his  miUtary  exercises.  Finally 
he  returns  home  on  foot,  running  part  of  the  way,  takes 
his  bath,  and  sits  down  to  a  moderate  midday  meal. 

This  combination  of  physical  exercise,  military  training 
and  business,  arouses  the  enthusiasm  of  Socrates.     "  How 


146  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

right  you  are!"  he  cries,  "and  the  consequence  is  that 
you  are  as  healthy  and  strong  as  we  see  you,  and  one  of 
the   best  riders   and  the  wealthiest  men  in  the  country!" 

This  little  prosaic  account  of  the  daily  life  of  an  Athe- 
nian gentleman  is  completely  in  harmony  with  all  we  have 
said  about  the  character  of  the  Greek  ideal ;  but  it  compre- 
hends only  a  part,  and  that  the  least  spiritual,  of  that 
rich  and  many-sided  excellence.  It  may  be  as  well, 
therefore,  to  append  by  way  of  complement  the  descrip- 
tion of  another  personality,  exceptional  indeed  even  among 
the  Greeks,  yet  one  which  only  Greece  could  have 
produced— the  personality  of  Socrates.  No  more  striking 
figure  is  presented  to  us  in  history,  none  has  been  more 
vividly  portrayed,  and  none,  in  spite  of  the  originality  of 
mind  which  provoked  the  hostility  of  the  crowd,  is  more 
thoroughly  Hellenic  in  every  aspect,  physical,  intellectual, 
and  moral. 

That  Socrates  was  ugly  in  countenance  was  a  defect 
which  a  Greek  could  not  fail  to  note,  and  his  snub  nose  and 
big  belly  are  matters  of  frequent  and  jocose  allusion.  But 
apart  from  these  defects  his  physique,  it  appears,  was  excep- 
tionally good;  he  was  sedulous  in  his  attendance  at  the  gym- 
nasia, and  was  noted  for  his  powers  of  endurance  and  his 
courage  and  skill  in  war.  Plato  records  it  of  him  that  in  a 
hard  winter  on  campaign,  when  the  common  soldiers  were 
muffling  themselves  in  sheepskins  and  felt  against  the  cold, 
he  alone  went  about  in  his  ordinary  cloak,  and  barefoot 
over  the  ice  and  snow;  and  he  further  describes  his 
bearing  in  a  retreat  from  a  lost  battle,  how  "there  you 
might  see  him,  just  as  he  is  in  the  streets  of  Athens, 
stalking  like  a  pelican  and  rolling  his  eyes,  calmly  con- 
templating  enemies  as  well  as  friends,  and  making  very 


ILLUSTRATIONS— ISCHOAIACHUS ;   SOCRATES     1 47 

intelligible  to  anybody,  even  from  a  distance,  that  whoever 
attacked  him  would  be  likely  to  meet  with  a  stout  re- 
sistance."* 

To  this  efficiency  of  body  corresponded,  in  accordance 
with  the  Greek  ideal,  a  perfect  balance  and  harmony  of 
soul.  Plato,  in  a  fine  figure,  compares  him  to  the  wooden 
statues  of  Silenus,  which  concealed  behind  a  grotesque 
exterior  beautiful  golden  images  of  the  gods.  Of  these 
divine  forms  none  was  fairer  in  Socrates  than  that  typical 
Greek  virtue,  temperance.  Without  a  touch  of  asceticism, 
he  knew  how  to  be  contented  with  a  little.  His  diet  he 
measured  strictly  with  a  view  to  health.  Naturally  abstemious, 
he  could  drink,  when  he  chose,  more  than  another  man; 
but  no  one  had  ever  seen  him  drunk.  His  affections 
were  strong  and  deep,  but  never  led  him  away  to  seek 
his  own  gratification  at  the  cost  of  those  he  loved.  With- 
out cutting  himself  off  from  any  of  the  pleasures  of  life, 
a  social  man  and  a  frequent  guest  at  feasts,  he  preserved 
without  an  effort  the  supremacy  of  character  and  mind 
over  the  flesh  he  neither  starved  nor  pampered.  Here  is 
a  description  by  Plato  of  his  bearing  at  the  close  of  an 
all-night  carouse,  which  may  stand  as  a  concrete  illustra- 
tion not  only  of  the  character  of  Socrates,  but  of  the 
meaning  of  "temperance"  as  it  was  understood  by  the 
Greeks : 

"Aristodemus  said  that  Eryximachus,  Phaedrus,  and 
others  went  away — he  himself  fell  asleep,  and  as  the  nights 
were  long  took  a  good  rest:  he  was  awakened  towards 
day-break  by  a  crowing  of  cocks,  and  when  he  awoke 
the   others   were   either  asleep,   or  had  gone  away;  there 

Plato,  Symp.   221  b.- -Translated  by  Jowett. 


148  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

remained  awake  only  Socrates,  Aristophanes,  and  Agathon, 
who  were  drinking  out  of  a  large  goblet  which  they  passed 
round,  and  Socrates  was  discoursing  to  them.  Aristodemus 
did  not  hear  the  beginning  of  the  discourse,  and  he  was 
only  half  awake,  but  the  chief  thing  which  he  remembered 
was  Socrates  compelling  the  other  two  to  acknowledge 
that  the  genius  of  comedy  was  the  same  as  that  of  tragedy, 
and  that  the  true  artist  in  tragedy  was  an  artist  in  comedy 
also.  To  this  they  assented,  being  drowsy,  and  not  quite 
following  the  argument.  And  first  of  all  Aristophanes 
dropped  off,  then,  when  the  day  was  already  dawning, 
Agathon.  Socrates,  when  he  had  laid  them  to  sleep,  rose 
to  depart:  Aristodemus,  as  his  manner  was,  following  him. 
At  the  Lyceum  he  took  a  bath,  and  passed  the  day  as 
usual.  In  the  evening  he  retired  to  rest  at  his  own 
house."* 

With  this  quality  of  temperance  was  combined  in  Socra- 
tes a  rare  measure  of  independence  and  moral  courage. 
He  was  never  an  active  politician;  but  as  every  Athenian 
citizen  was  called,  at  some  time  or  another,  to  public 
office,  he  found  himself,  on  a  critical  occasion,  responsible 
for  putting  a  certain  proposition  to  the  vote  in  the  Assembly. 
It  was  a  moment  of  intense  excitement.  A  great  victory 
had  just  been  won;  but  the  generals  who  had  achieved 
the  success  had  neglected  to  recover  the  corpses  of  the 
dead  or  to  save  the  ship-wrecked.  It  was  proposed  to 
take  a  vote  of  life  or  death  on  all  the  generals  collectively. 
Socrates,  as  it  happened,  was  one  of  the  committee  whose 
duty  it  was  to  put  the  question  to  the  Assembly.  But 
the   proposition    was    in    itself  illegal,    and  Socrates  with 

'Plato,  SymposJon,  2 23.— Translated  by  Jowett. 


ILLUSTRATIONS— ISCHOMACHUS  ;  SOCRATES     I  49 

some  other  members  of  the  committee,  refused  to  submit 
it  to  the  vote.  Every  kind  of  pressure  was  brought  tu 
bear  upon  the  recalcitrant  officers;  orators  threatened, 
friends  besought,  the  mob  clamoured  and  denounced. 
Finally  all  but  Socrates  gave  way.  He  alone,  an  old  man, 
in  office  for  the  first  time,  had  the  courage  to  obey  his 
conscience  and  the  law  in  face  of  an  angry  populace 
crying  for  blood. 

And  as  he  could  stand  against  a  mob,  so  he  could 
stand  against  a  despot.  At  the  time  when  Athens  was 
ruled  by  the  thirty  tyrants  he  was  ordered,  with  four  others, 
to  arrest  a  man  whom  the  authorities  wished  to  put  out 
of  the  way.  The  man  was  guilty  of  no  crime,  and 
Socrates  refused.  "I  went  quietly  home,"  he  says,  "and 
no  doubt  I  should  have  been  put  to  death  for  it,  if  the 
government  had  not  shortly  after  come  to  an  end." 

These,  however,  were  exceptional  episodes  in  the  career 
of  a  man  who  was  never  a  prominent  politician.  The 
main  interest  of  Socrates  was  intellectual  and  moral;  an 
interest,  however,  rather  practical  than  speculative.  For 
though  he  was  charged  in  his  indictment  with  preaching 
atheism,  he  appears  in  fact  to  have  concerned  himself 
little  or  nothing  with  either  theological  or  physical  inquiries. 
He  was  careful  in  his  observance  of  all  prescribed  religious 
rites,  and  probably  accepted  the  gods  as  powers  of  the  natural 
world  and  authors  of  human  institutions  and  laws.  His 
originality  lay  not  in  any  purely  speculative  views,  but  in 
the  pertinacious  curiosity,  practical  in  its  origin  and  aim, 
with  which  he  attacked  and  sifted  the  ethical  conceptions 
ot  his  time:  "What  is  justice?"  "What  is  piety?" 
"  What  is  temperance  ?" — these  were  the  kinds  of  questions 
he  never  tired  of  raising,  pointing  out   contradictions   and 

T  I 


150  THE  4^REEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

inconsistencies  in  current  ideas,  and  awakening  doubts 
which  if  negative  in  form  were  positive  and  fruitful  in 
effect. 

His  method  in  pursuing  these  inquiries  was  that  of  cross- 
examination.  In  the  streets,  in  the  market,  in  the  gym- 
nasia, at  meetings  grave  and  gay,  in  season  or  out  of 
season,  he  raised  his  points  of  definition.  The  city  was 
in  a  ferment  around  him.  Young  men  and  boys 
followed  and  hung  on  his  lips  wherever  he  went.  By 
the  charm  of  his  personality,  his  gracious  courtesy 
and  wit,  and  the  large  and  generous  atmosphere  of  a 
sympathy  always  at  hand  to  temper  to  particular  persons 
the  rigours  of  a  generalising  logic,  he  drew  to  himself, 
with  a  fascination  not  more  of  the  intellect  than  of  the 
heart,  all  that  was  best  and  brightest  in  the  youth  of 
Athens.  His  relation  to  his  young  disciples  was  that  of  a 
lover  and  a  friend ;  and  the  stimulus  given  by  his  dialectics 
to  their  keen  and  eager  minds  was  supplemented  and  re- 
inforced by  the  appeal  to  their  admiration  and  love  of 
his  sweet  and  virile  personality. 

Only  in  Ancient  Athens,  perhaps,  could  such  a  character 
and  such  conditions  have  met.  The  sociable  out-door 
city  Hfe ;  the  meeting  places  in  the  open  air,  and  especially 
the  gymnasia,  frequented  by  young  and  old  not  more  for 
exercise  of  the  body  than  for  recreation  of  the  mind ;  the 
nimble  and  versatile  Athenian  wits  trained  to  preternatural 
acuteness  by  the  debates  of  the  law  courts  and  the 
Assembly;  all  this  was  exactly  the  environment  fitted  to 
develop  and  sustain  a  genius  at  once  so  subtle  and  so 
humane  as  that  of  Socrates.  It  is  the  concrete  presen- 
tation of  this  city-life  that  lends  so  peculiar  a  charm  to 
the  dialogues  of  Plato.     The  spirit  of  metaphysics  puts  on 


ILLUSTRATIONS— ISCHOMACHUS;    SOCRATES     151 

the  human  form;  and  Dialectic  walks  the  streets  and 
contends  in  the  palaestra.  It  would  be  impossible  to 
convey  by  citation  the  cumulative  effect  of  this  constant 
reference  in  Plato  to  a  human  background;  but  a  single 
excerpt  may  perhaps  help  us  to  realise  the  conditions 
under  which  Socrates  lived  and  worked.  Here,  then,  is  a 
description  of  the  scene  in  one  of  those  gymnasia  in 
which  he  was  wont  to  hold  his  conversations: 

"  Upon  entering  we  found  that  the  boys  had  just  been 
sacrificing;  and  this  part  of  the  festival  was  nearly  at  an 
end.  They  were  all  in  white  array,  and  games  at  dice 
were  going  on  among  them.  Most  of  them  were  in  the 
outer  court  amusing  themselves ;  but  some  were  in  a  comer 
of  the  x\podyterium  playing  at  odd  and  even  with  a 
number  of  dice,  which  they  took  out  of  little  wicker 
baskets.  There  was  also  a  circle  of  lookers-on,  one  of 
whom  was  Lysis.  He  was  standing  among  the  other  boys 
and  youths,  having  a  crown  upon  his  head,  hke  a  fair 
vision,  and  not  less  worthy  of  praise  for  his  goodness  than 
for  his  beauty.  We  left  them,  and  went  over  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  where,  finding  a  quiet  place, 
we  sat  down ;  and  then  we  began  to  talk.  This  attracted 
Lysis,  who  was  constantly  turning  round  to  look  at  us — 
he  was  evidently  wanting  to  come  to  us.  For  a  time  he 
hesitated  and  had  not  the  courage  to  come  alone;  but 
first  of  all,  his  friend  Menexenus  came  in  out  of  the  court 
in  the  interval  of  his  play,  and  when  he  saw  Ctesippus 
and  myself,  came  and  sat  by  us;  and  then  Lysis,  seeing 
him,  followed,  and  sat  down  with  him,  and  the  other  boys 
joined. 

"I  turned  to  Menexenus,  and  said:  'Son  of  Demophon, 
which  of  you  two  youths  is  the  elder?' 


152  THE    GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

"'That  is  a  matter  of  dispute  between  us,'  he  said. 

"  '  And  which  is  the  nobler  ?  Is  that  a  matter  of  dispute 
too?' 

"  '  Yes,  certainly. ' 

" '  And   another  disputed  point  is,  which  is  the  fairer  ? ' 

"The  two  boys  laughed. 

"  *  I  shall  not  ask  which  is  the  richer, '  I  said ;  *  for  you 
two  are  friends,  are  you  not?' 

"  *  Certainly, '  they  replied. 

"'And  friends  have  all  things  in  common,  so  that  one 
of  you  can  be  no  richer  than  the  other,  if  you  say  truly 
that  you  are  friends.' 

"They  assented.  I  was  about  to  ask  which  was  the 
greater  of  the  two,  and  which  was  the  wiser  of  the  two; 
but  at  this  moment  Menexenus  was  called  away  by  some 
one  who  came  and  said  that  the  gymnastic-master  wanted 
him.  I  supposed  that  he  had  to  offer  sacrifice.  So  he 
went  away  and  I  asked  Lysis  some  more  questions."  * 

Such  were  the  scenes  in  which  Socrates  passed  his  life. 
Of  his  influence  it  is  hardly  necessary  here  to  speak  at 
length.  In  the  well-known  metaphor  put  into  his  mouth 
by  Plato,  he  was  the  "gad-fly"  of  the  Athenian  people. 
To  prick  intellectual  lethargy,  to  force  people  to  think, 
and  especially  to  think  about  the  conceptions  with  which 
they  supposed  themselves  to  be  most  familiar,  those  which 
guided  their  conduct  in  private  and  public  affairs— justice 
expediency,  honesty,  and  the  like— such  was  the  constant 
object  of  his  life.  That  he  should  have  made  enemies, 
that  he  should  have  been  misunderstood,  that  he  should 
have   been   accused    of  undermining   the  foundations   of 

'Plato,   Lysis  206  e.^Translated  by  Jowett. 


ILLUSTRATIONS— ISCHOMACHUS;    SOCRATES    1 53 

morality  and  religion,  is  natural  and  intelligible  enough; 
and  it  was  on  these  grounds  that  he  was  condemned  to 
death.  His  conduct  at  his  trial  was  of  a  piece  with  the 
rest  of  his  life.  The  customary  arts  of  the  pleader,  the 
appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  the  public,  the  introduction 
into  court  of  weeping  wife  and  children,  he  rejected  as 
unworthy  of  himself  and  of  his  cause.  His  defence  was 
a  simple  exposition  of  the  character  and  the  aims  of  his 
life;  so  far  from  being  a  criminal  he  asserted  that  he  was 
a  benefactor  of  the  Athenian  people;  and  having,  after 
his  condemnation,  to  suggest  the  sentence  he  thought 
appropriate,  he  proposed  that  he  should  be  supported  at 
the  public  expense  as  one  who  had  deserved  well  of  his 
country.  After  his  sentence  to  death,  having  to  wait 
thirty  days  for  its  execution,  he  showed  no  change  from 
his  customary  cheerfulness,  passing  his  time  in  conver- 
sation with  his  friends.  So  far  from  regretting  his  fate 
he  rather  congratulated  himself  that  he  would  escape  the 
decadence  that  attends  upon  old  age;  and  he  had,  if  we 
may  trust  Plato,  a  fair  and  confident  assurance  that  a 
happy  life  awaited  him  beyond.  He  died,  according  to 
the  merciful  law  of  Athens,  by  drinking  hemlock ;  "  the 
wisest  and  justest  and  best,"  in  Plato's  judgment,  "of  all 
the  men  that  I  have  ever  known." 

We  have  dwelt  thus  long  on  the  personality  of  Socrates, 
familiar  though  it  be,  not  only  on  account  of  its  intrinsic 
interest,  but  also  because  it  is  peculiarly  Hellenic.  That 
sunny  and  frank  intelligence,  bathed,  as  it  were,  in  the 
open  air,  a  gracious  blossom  springing  from  the  root 
of  physical  health,  that  unique  and  perfect  balance  of  body 
and  soul,  passion  and  intellect,  represent,  against  the  bril- 
liant  setting  of  Athenian  life,  the  highest  achievement  of 


154  THE   GREEK    VIEW   OF   LIFE 

the  civilisation  of  Greece.  The  figure  of  Socrates,  no 
doubt,  has  been  idealised  by  Plato,  but  it  is  none  the  less 
significant  of  the  trend  of  Hellenic  life.  No  other  people 
could  have  conceived  such  an  ideal ;  no  other  could  have 
gone  so  far  towards  its  realisation. 

§  S.  The  Greek   View  of  Wo7na7i. 

In  the  preceding  account  we  have  attempted  to  give 
some  conception  of  the  Greek  ideal  for  the  individual  man. 
It  is  now  time  to  remind  ourselves  that  that  ideal  was 
only  supposed  to  be  proper  to  a  small  class — the  class  of 
soldier-citizens.  Artisans  and  slaves,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  no  participation  in  it;  neither,  and  that  is  our  next 
point,  had  women. 

Nothing  more  profoundly  distinguishes  the  Hellenic  from 
the  modern  view  of  life  than  the  estimate  in  which  women 
were  held  by  the  Greeks.  Their  opinion  on  this  point 
was  partly  the  cause  and  partly  the  effect  of  that  preponder- 
ance of  the  idea  of  the  State  on  which  we  have  already 
dwelt,  and  from  which  it  followed  naturally  enough  that 
marriage  should  be  regarded  primarily  as  a  means  of 
producing  healthy  and  efficient  citizens.  This  view  is 
best  illustrated  by  the  institutions  of  such  a  State  as 
Sparta,  where,  as  we  saw,  the  woman  was  specially 
trained  for  maternity,  and  connections  outside  the 
marriage  tie  were  sanctioned  by  custom  and  opinion, 
if  they  were  such  as  were  likely  to  lead  to  healthy 
offspring.  Further  it  may  be  noted  that  in  almost  every 
State  the  exposure  of  deformed  or  sickly  infants  was 
encouraged   by  law,   the   child  being  thus  regarded,  from 


I 


THE   GREEK    VIEW  OF  WOMAN  1 55 

tne  beginning,   as  a  member  of  the  State,  rather  than  as 
a  member  of  the  family. 

The  same  view  is  reflected  in  the  speculations  of  polit- 
ical philosophers.  Plato,  indeed,  in  his  Republic,  goes  so 
far  as  to  eliminate  the  family  relation  altogether.  Not 
only  is  the  whole  connection  between  men  and  women 
to  be  regulated  by  the  State,  in  respect  both  of  the  persons 
and  of  the  limit  of  age  within  which  they  may  associate, 
but  the  children  as  soon  as  they  are  born  are  to  be 
carried  off  to  a  common  nursery,  there  to  be  reared 
together,  undistinguished  by  the  mothers,  who  will  suckle 
indifferently  any  infant  that  might  happen  to  be  assigned 
to  them  for  the  purpose.  Here,  as  in  other  instances, 
Plato  goes  far  beyond  the  limits  set  by  the  current  senti- 
ment of  the  Greeks,  and  in  his  later  work  is  reluctantly 
constrained  to  abandon  his  scheme  of  community  of 
wives  and  children.  Yet  even  there  he  makes  it  com- 
pulsory on  every  man  to  marry  between  the  ages  of 
thirty  and  thirty-five,  under  penalty  of  fine  and  civil 
disabilities.  Plato,  no  doubt,  as  we  have  said,  exaggerates 
the  opinions  of  his  time;  but  the  view,  which  he  pushes 
to  its  extreme,  of  the  subordination  of  the  family  to 
the  State,  was  one,  as  we  have  already  pointed  out, 
which  did  predominate  in  Greece.  It  reappears  in  a 
soberer  form  in  the  treatise  of  Aristotle.  He  too  woulc 
regulate  by  law  both  the  age  at  which  marriages  should 
take  place  and  the  number  of  children  that  should  be 
produced,  and  would  have  all  deformed  infants  exposed. 
And  here,  no  doubt,  he  is  speaking  in  conformity  if  not 
with  the  practice,  at  least  with  the  feeling  of  Greece. 
The  modem  conception  that  the  marriage  relation  is  a 
matter   of  private  concern,  and  that  any  individual  has  a 


156  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

right  to  wed  whom  and  when  he  will,  and  to  produce 
children  at  his  own  discretion,  regardless  of  all  consid- 
erations of  health  and  decency,  was  one  altogether  alien 
to  the  Greeks.  In  theory  at  least,  and  to  some  extent  in 
practice  (as  for  example  in  the  case  of  Sparta),  they  re- 
cognised that  the  production  of  children  was  a  business 
of  supreme  import  to  the  State,  and  that  it  was  right  and 
proper  that  it  should  be  regulated  by  law  with  a  view  to 
the  advantage  of  the  whole  community. 

And  if  now  we  turn  from  considering  the  family  in  its 
relation  to  the  State  to  regard  it  in  its  relation  to  the 
individual,  we  are  struck  once  more  by  a  divergence  from 
the  modern  point  of  view,  or  rather  from  the  view  which 
is  supposed  to  prevail,  particularly  by  writers  of  fiction, 
at  any  rate  in  modem  English  life.  In  ancient  Greece, 
so  far  as  our  knowledge  goes,  there  was  little  or  no  romance 
connected  with  the  marriage  tie.  Marriage  was  a  means 
of  producing  legitimate  children;  that  is  how  it  is  defined 
by  Demosthenes;  and  we  have  no  evidence  that  it  was  ever 
regarded  as  anything  more.  In  Athens  we  know  that 
marriages  were  commonly  arranged  by  the  father,  much 
as  they  are  in  modern  France,  on  grounds  of  age,  property, 
connection  and  the  like,  and  without  any  regard  for  the 
inclination  of  the  parties  concerned.  And  an  interesting 
passage  in  Xenophon  indicates  a  point  of  view  quite 
consonant  with  this  accepted  practice.  God,  he  says, 
ordained  the  institution  of  marriage ;  but  on  what  grounds  ? 
Not  in  the  least  for  the  sake  of  the  personal  relation  that 
might  be  established  between  the  husband  and  wife,  but 
for  ends  quite  external  and  indifferent  to  any  affection 
that  might  exist  between  them.     First,  for  the  perpetua- 


THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   WOMAN  1 57 

tion  of  the  human  race;  secondly,  to  raise  up  protectors 
for  the  father  in  his  old  age;  thirdly,  to  secure  an  ap- 
propriate division  of  labour,  the  man  performing  the  out- 
door work,  the  woman  guarding  and  superintending  at 
home,  and  each  thus  fulfilling  duly  the  function  for  which 
they  were  designed  by  nature.  This  eminently  prosaic 
way  of  conceiving  the  marriage  relation,  is  also,  it  would 
seem,  eminently  Greek ;  and  it  leads  us  to  consider  more 
particularly  the  opinion  prevalent  in  Greece  of  the  nature 
and  duty  of  woman  in  general. 

Here  the  first  point  to  be  noticed  is  the  wide  differ- 
ence of  the  view  represented  in  the  Homeric  poems  from 
that  which  meets  us  in  the  historic  period.  Readers  of 
the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  will  find  depicted  there,  amid 
all  the  barbarity  of  an  age  of  rapine  and  war,  relations 
between  men  and  women  so  tender,  faithful  and  beauti- 
ful, that  they  may  almost  stand  as  universal  types  of  the 
ultimate  human  ideal.  Such  for  example  is  the  relation 
between  Odysseus  and  Penelope,  the  wife  waiting  year 
by  year  for  the  husband  whose  fate  is  unknown,  wooed 
in  vain  by  suitors  who  waste  her  substance  and  wear 
her  hfe,  nightly  "watering  her  bed  with  her  tears"  for 
twenty  weary  years,  till  at  last  the  wanderer  returns,  and 
"at  once  her  knees  were  loosened  and  her  heart  melted 
within  her .  . .  and  she  fell  a  weeping  and  ran  straight 
towards  him,  and  cast  her  hands  about  his  neck,  and 
kissed  his  head ; "  for  "  even  as  the  sight  of  the  land  is 
welcome  to  mariners,  so  welcome  to  her  was  the  sight  of 
her  lord,  and  her  white  arms  would  never  quite  leave  hold 
of  his  neck."* 

*Odyss.  XXni.  205,  231. — Translated  by  Butcher  and  Lang. 


158  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

Such,  again,  is  the  relation  between  Hector  and  Andro- 
mache as  described  in  the  well-known  scene  of  the  Iliad, 
where  the  wife  comes  out  with  her  babe  to  take  leave 
of  the  husband  on  his  way  to  battle.  "  It  were  better  for 
me,"  she  cries,  "to  go  down  to  the  grave  if  I  lose  thee; 
for  never  will  any  comfort  be  mine,  when  once  thou,  even 

thou,    hast  met  thy  fate,  but  only  sorrow Thou  art 

to  me  father  and  lady  mother,  yea,  and  brother,  even  as 
thou  art  my  goodly  husband.  Come  now,  have  pity  and 
abide  here  upon  the  tower,  lest  thou  make  thy  child  an 
orphan  and  thy  wife  a  widow."  Hector  answers  with 
the  plea  of  honour.  He  cannot  draw  back,  but  he 
foresees  defeat;  and  in  his  anticipation  of  the  future 
nothing  is  so  bitter  as  the  fate  he  fears  for  his  wife. 
"  Yet  doth  the  conquest  of  the  Trojans  hereafter  not  so 
much  trouble  me,  neither  Hekabe's  own,  neither  King 
Priam's,  neither  my  brethren's,  the  many  and  brave  that 
shall  fall  in  the  dust  before  their  foemen,  as  doth  thine 
anguish  in  the  day  when  some  mail-clad  Achaian 
shall  lead  thee  weeping  and  rob  thee  of  the  light  of 
freedom  ....  But  me  in  death  may  the  heaped-up  earth 
be  covering,  ere  I  hear  thy  crying  and  thy  carrying  into 
captivity. "  * 

But  most  striking  of  all  the  portraits  of  women  to  be 
found  in  Homer,  and  most  typical  of  a  frank  and  healthy 
relation  between  the  sexes,  is  the  account  of  Nausicaa 
given  in  the  Odyssey.  Ulysses,  shipwrecked  and  naked, 
battered  and  covered  with  brine,  surprises  Nausicaa  and 
her  maidens  as  they  are  playing  at  ball  on  the  shore. 
The  attendants  run   away,  but  Nausicaa  remains  to  hear 

'Iliad  VI.  450. — Translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers, 


■rrr 


THE  GREEK    VIEW   OF    WOMAN  159 

what  the  stranger  has  to  say.  He  asks  her  for  shelter  and 
clothing;  and  she  grants  the  request,  with  an  exquisite 
courtesy  and  a  freedom  from  all  embarrassment  which  becomes 
only  the  more  marked  and  the  more  delightful  when,  as 
she  sees  him  emerge  from  the  bath,  clotjied  and  beautiful, 
she  cannot  restrain  the  exclamation  "would  that  such  a 
one  might  be  called  my  husband,  dwelling  here,  and  that 
it  might  please  him  here  to  abide."  1  About  the  whole 
scene  there  is  a  freshness  and  a  fragrance  as  of  early 
morning,  and  a  tone  so  natural,  free  and  frank,  that 
in  the  face  of  this  rustic  idyl  the  later  centuries  sicken 
and  faint,  like  candle-light  in  the  splendour  of  the 
dawn. 

If  we  had  only  Homer  to  give  us  our  ideas  of  the 
Greeks,  we  might  conclude,  from  such  passages  as  these, 
that  they  had  a  conception  of  woman  and  of  her  relation 
to  man,  finer  and  nobler,  in  some  respects,  than  that  of 
modem  times.  But  in  fact  the  Homeric  poems  represent 
a  civilisation  which  had  passed  away  before  the  opening 
of  the  period  with  which  at  present  we  are  chiefly  con- 
cerned. And  in  the  interval,  for  reasons  which  we  need 
not  here  attempt  to  state,  a  change  had  taken  place  in 
the  whole  way  of  regarding  the  female  sex.  So  far,  at 
any  rate,  as  our  authorities  enable  us  to  judge,  woman,  in 
the  historic  age,  was  conceived  to  be  so  inferior  to  man 
that  he  recognised  in  her  no  other  end  than  to  minister 
to  his  pleasure  or  to  become  the  mother  of  his  children. 
Romance  and  the  higher  companionship  of  intellect  and 
spirit  do  not  appear  (with  certain  notable  exceptions)  to 
have   been   commonly   sought   or   found    in   this  relation. 

'Od.  VI.  244. — Translated  by  Butcher  and  Lang. 


k 


I  (So  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF   LIFE 

Woman,  in  fact,  was  regarded  as  a  means,  not  as  an  end ; 
and  was  treated  in  a  manner  consonant  with  this  view. 
Of  this  estimate  many  illustrations  might  be  adduced  from 
the  writers  of  the  fifth  and  fourth  centuries.  Plato,  for 
example,  classes  together  "  children,  women,  and  servants,  "^ 
and  states  generally  that  there  is  no  branch  of  human 
industry  in  which  the  female  sex  is  not  inferior  to  the 
male.'  Similarly,  Aristotle  insists  again  and  again  on  the 
natural  inferiority  of  woman,  and  illustrates  it  by  such 
quaint  observations  as  the  following :  "  a  man  would  be 
considered  a  coward  who  was  only  as  brave  as  a  brave 
woman,  and  a  woman  as  a  chatterbox  who  was  only  as 
modest  as  a  good  man."*  But  the  most  striking  example, 
perhaps,  because  the  most  unconscious,  of  this  habitual 
way  of  regarding  women  is  to  be  found  in  the  funeral 
oration  put  by  Thucydides  into  the  mouth  of  Pericles, 
where  the  speaker,  after  suggesting  what  consolation  he 
can  to  the  fathers  of  the  slain,  turns  to  the  women  with 
the  brief  but  significant  exhortation:  "If  I  am  to  speak 
of  womanly  virtues  to  those  of  you  who  will  henceforth 
be  widows,  let  me  sum  them  up  in  one  short  admonition : 
To  a  woman  not  to  show  more  weakness  than  is  natural 
to  her  sex  is  a  great  glory,  and  not  to  be  talked  about 
for  good  or  for  evil  among  men.  "* 

The  sentiments  of  the  poets  are  less  admissible  as  evi- 
dence. But  some  of  them  are  so  extreme  that  they  may 
be  adduced  as  a  further  indication  of  a  point  of  view 
whose  prevalence  alone  could  render  them  even  drama- 
tically plausible.     Such   for   example  is  the  remark  which 

*  Plato,  Republic  431  c.        ^jbid.  455  c. 

'Arist.   Pol.  III.   1277  b  21. — Translated  by  Welldon. 

*  Thucydides  II.  45. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  WOMAN  l6l 

Euripides  puts  into  the  mouth  of  his  Medea — "women  are 
impotent  for  good,  but  clever  contrivers  of  all  evil"*;  or 
that  of  one  of  the  characters  of  Menander,  "  a  woman  is 
necessarily  an  evil,  and  he  is  a  lucky  man  who  catches 
her  in  the  mildest  form."  While  the  general  Greek  view 
of  the  dependence  of  woman  on  man  is  well  expressed 
in  the  words  of  Aethra,  in  the  "Suppliants"  of  Euripides — 
"it  is  proper  for  women  who  are  wise  to  let  men  act  for 
them  in  everything."* 

In  accordance  with  this  conception  of  the  inferiority 
of  the  female  sex,  and  partly  as  a  cause,  partly  as  an  ef- 
fect of  it,  we  find  that  the  position  of  the  wife  in  ancient 
Greece  was  simply  that  of  the  domestic  drudge.  To  stay 
at  home  and  mind  the  house  was  her  recognised  ideal. 
"A  free  woman  should  be  bounded  by  the  street  door,** 
says  one  of  the  characters  in  Menander;  and  another 
writer  discriminates  as  follows  the  functions  of  the  two 
sexes : — "  War,  politics,  and  public  speaking  are  the  sphere 
of  man ;  that  of  woman  is  to  keep  house,  to  stay  at  home 
and  to  receive  and  tend  her  husband."  We  are  not 
surprised,  therefore,  to  find  that  the  symbol  of  woman  is 
the  tortoise;  and  in  the  following  burlesque  passage  from 
Aristophanes  we  shall  recognise,  in  spite  of  the  touch  of 
caricature,  the  genuine  features  of  the  Greek  wife.  Praxa- 
gora  is  recounting  the  merits  and  services  of  women: 

"  They  dip  their  wool  in  hot  water  according  to  the 
ancient  plan,  all  of  them  without  exception,  and  never 
make  the  slightest  innovation.  They  sit  and  cook,  as  of 
old.  They  carry  upon  their  heads,  as  of  old.  They 
conduct  the  Themophoriae,  as  of  old.     They  wear  out  their 

*  Euripides ,  Medea.  406, 
•Euripides,  Hik.  40. 


1 62  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

husbands,   as  of  old.     They  buy  sweets,  as  of  old.     They 
take  their  wine  neat,  as  of  old."* 

And  that  this  was  also  the  kind  of  ideal  approved  by 
their  lords  and  masters,  and  that  any  attempt  to  pass 
beyond  it  was  resented,  is  amusingly  illustrated  in  the 
following  extract  from  the  same  poet,  where  Lysistrata 
explains  the  growing  indignation  of  the  women  at  the  bad 
conduct  of  affairs  by  the  men,  and  the  way  in  which  their 
attempts  to  interfere  were  resented.  The  comments  of  the 
"magistrate"   typify,   of  course,  the   man's  point  of  view. 

"Think  of  our  old  moderation  and  gentleness,  think  how  we 
bore  with  your  pranks,  and  were  still, 

All  through  the  days  of  your  former  prognacity,  all  through 
the  war  that  is  over  and  spent: 

Not    that   (be    sure)  we  approved  of  your  policy;  never  our 
griefs  you  allowed  us  to  vent. 

Well  we  perceived  your  mistakes  and  mismanagement.  Often 
at  home  on  our  housekeeping  cares, 

Often  we  heard  of  some  foolish  proposal  you  made  for  con- 
ducting the  public  affairs. 

Then  would  we  question  you  mildly  and  pleasantly,  inwardly 
grieving,  but  outwardly  gay; 

♦  Husband,  how  goes  it  abroad  ? '  we  would  ask  of  him ;  '  what 
have  ye  done  in  Assembly  to-day  ?  * 

'What  would  ye  write  on  the  side  of  the  Treaty-stone?'  Hus- 
band says  angrily,  '  What's  that  to  you  ? 

You  hold  yoiu:  tongue ! '  And  I  held  it  accordingly. 

STRATYLLIS. 

That  is  a  thing  which  I  never  would  dol 

MAGISTRATE. 

Ma'am,  if  you  hadn't  you'd  soon  have  repented  it. 
"Aristophanes,  Eccles.  215. 


•  tM4»««#>*t»*««M«>r»»»^ 


tHE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  WOMAN  1 63 

LYSISTRATA. 

Therefore  I  held  it,  and  spake  not  a  word. 
Soon  of  another   tremendous   absurdity,    wilder   and    worse 

than  the  former  we  heard. 
♦Husband,'    I   say,  with  a  tender  solicitude,  'Why  have  you 

passed  such  a  foolish  decree  ? ' 
Viciously,    moodily,    glaring   askance   at   me,    'Stick   to   your 

spinning,  my  mistress,'  says  he, 
'Else   you   will    speedily   find  it   the   worse   for  you!  war  is 

the  care  and  the  business  of  men  1  * 

MAGISTRATE. 

Zeus!  'twas  a  worthy  reply,  and  an  excellent! 

LYSISTRATA. 

WTiat !  you  unfortimate,  shall  we  not  then. 
Then,    when   we    see   you   perplexed    and   incompetent,  shall 
we  not  tender  advice  to  the  state !  "  * 

The  conception  thus  indicated  in  burlesque  of  the  pro- 
per place  of  woman  is  expressed  more  seriously,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  average  man  in  the  "  Oeconomicus  " 
of  Xenophon.  Ischomachus,  the  hero  of  that  work,  with 
<vhom  we  have  aheady  made  acquaintance,  gives  an 
account  of  his  own  wife,  and  of  the  way  in  which  he  had 
trained  her.  When  he  married  her,  he  explains,  she  was 
not  yet  fifteen,  and  had  been  brought  up  with  the  utmost 
care  "that  she  might  see,  hear,  and  ask  as  little  as 
possible."  Her  accomplishments  were  weaving  and  a 
sufficient  acquaintance  with  all  that  concerns  the  stomach  ; 
and  her  attitude  towards  her  husband  she  expressed  in  the 
single  phrase :  "  Everything  rests  with  you ;  my  duty,  my 
mother  said,  is  simply  to  be  modest."    Ischomachus  proceeds 

*  Aristoph.  Lysistrata.  507. — Translated  by  B.  B.  Rogers. 


164  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

to  explain  to  her  the  place  he  expects  her  to  fill;  she  is 
to  suckle  his  children,  to  cook,  and  to  superintend  the 
house;  and  for  this  purpose  God  has  given  her  special 
gifts,  different  from  but  not  necessarily  inferior  to  those 
of  man.  Husband  and  wife  naturally  supply  one  another's 
deficiencies;  and  if  the  wife  perform  her  function  worthily 
she  may  even  make  herself  the  ruling  partner,  and  be 
sure  that  as  she  grows  older  she  will  be  held  not  less 
but  more  in  honour,  as  the  guardian  of  her  children  and 
the  stewardess  of  her  husband's  goods.— In  Xenophon's 
view,  in  fact,  the  inferiority  of  the  woman  almost  disap- 
pears; and  the  sentiment  approximates  closely  to  that  of 
Tennyson — 

"either  sex  alone 
Is  half  itself,  and  in  true  marriage  lies 
Nor  equal,  nor  unequal :  each  fulfils 
Defect  in  each." 

Such  a  conception,  however,  of  the  "  complementary  ** 
relation  of  woman  to  man,  does  not  exclude  a  conviction 
of  her  essential  inferiority.  And  this  conviction,  it  can 
hardly  be  disputed,  was  a  cardinal  point  in  the  Greek 
view  of  life. 

§  g.  Protests  against  the  Common   View  of  Woman. 

Nevertheless,  there  are  not  wanting  indications,  both  in 
theory  and  practice,  of  a  protest  against  it.  In  Sparta 
as  we  have  already  noticed,  girls,  instead  of  being  confined 
to  the  house,  were  brought  up  in  the  open  air  among  the 
boys,  trained  in  gymnastics  and  accustomed  to  run  and 
wrestle   naked.     And   Plato,  modelling  his  view  upon  this 


PROTESTS   AGAINST   THE   VIEW   OF   WOMAN      165 

experience,  makes  no  distinction  of  the  sexes  in  his  ideal 
repubHc.  Women,  he  admits,  are  generally  inferior  to 
men,  but  they  have  similar,  if  lower,  capacities  and  powers. 
There  is  no  occupation  or  art  for  which  they  may  not 
be  fitted  by  nature  and  education;  and  he  would  there- 
fore have  them  take  their  share  in  government  and  war, 
as  well  as  in  the  various  mechanical  trades.  "  None  of 
the  occupations,"  he  says,  "  which  comprehend  the  order- 
ing of  a  state,  belong  to  woman  as  woman,  nor  yet  to 
man  as  man ;  but  natural  gifts  are  to  be  found  here  and 
there,  in  both  sexes  alike;  and,  so  far  as  her  nature  is 
concerned,  the  woman  is  admissible  to  all  pursuits  as  well 
as  the  man;  though  in  all  of  them  the  woman  is  weaker 
than  the  man."* 

In  adopting  this  attitude  Plato  stands  alone  not  only 
among  Greeks,  but  one  might  almost  say,  among  mankind, 
till  we  come  to  the  latest  views  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
But  there  is  another  Greek,  the  poet  Euripides,  who, 
without  advancing  any  theory  about  the  proper  position 
of  women,  yet  displays  so  intimate  an  understanding  of 
their  difficulties,  and  so  warm  and  close  a  sympathy  with 
their  giiefs,  that  some  of  his  utterances  may  stand  to  all 
time  as  documents  of  the  dumb  and  age-long  protest  of 
the  weaker  against  the  stronger  sex.  In  illustration  we 
may  cite  the  following  lines  from  the  "  Medea,"  applicable, 
mutatis  mutandis,  to  how  many  generations  of  suffering 
wives  ? 

"Of  all  things  that  have  life  and  sense  we  women  are 
most  wretched.  For  we  are  compelled  to  buy  with  gold 
a  husband  who  is  also — worst  of  all!— the  master  of  our 
person.     And   on   his   character,   good  or  bad,  our  whole 

»  Plato,  Rep.  455  d. — Translated  by  Davies  and  Vaugban. 

12 


1 66  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

fate  depends.  For  divorce  is  regarded  as  a  disgrace  to  a 
woman  and  she  cannot  repudiate  her  husband.  Then 
coming  as  she  does  into  the  midst  of  manners  and  customs 
strange  to  her,  she  would  need  the  gift  of  divination — 
unless  she  has  been  taught  at  home — to  know  how  best 
to  treat  her  bed -fellow.  And  if  we  manage  so  well  that 
our  husband  remains  faithful  to  us,  and  does  not  break 
away,  we  may  think  ourselves  fortunate;  if  not,  there  is 
nothing  for  it  but  death.  A  man  when  he  is  vexed  at 
home  can  go  out  and  find  relief  among  his  friends  or 
acquaintances;  but  we  women  have  none  to  look  to  but 
him.  They  tell  us  we  live  a  sheltered  life  at  home  while 
they  go  to  the  wars;  but  that  is  nonsense.  For  I 
would  rather  go  into  battle  thrice  than  bear  a  child  once."* 
Hitherto  we  have  been  speaking  mainly  of  the  position 
of  the  wife  in  Greece.  It  is  necessary  now  to  say  a  few 
words  about  that  class  of  women  who  were  called  in  the 
Greek  tongue  Hetaerae;  and  who  are  by  some  supposed 
to  have  represented,  intellectually  at  least,  a  higher  level 
of  culture  than  the  other  members  of  their  sex.  In 
exceptional  cases,  this,  no  doubt,  was  the  fact.  Aspasia, 
for  example,  the  mistress  of  Pericles,  was  famous  for  her 
powers  of  mind.  According  to  Plato  she  was  an  ac- 
complished rhetorician,  and  the  real  composer  of  the 
celebrated  funeral  oration  of  Pericles;  and  Plutarch  asserts 
that  she  was  courted  and  admired  by  the  statesmen  and 
philosophers  of  Greece.  But  Aspasia  cannot  be  taken  as 
a  type  of  the  Hetaerae  of  Greece.  That  these  women,  by 
the  variety  and  freedom  of  their  life,  may  and  must  have 
acquired  certain  qualities  of  character  and  mind  that  could 

»  Euripides,  Med.   230. 


FRIENDSHIP  167 

hardly  be  developed  in  the  seclusion  of  the  Greek  home,  may 
readily  be  admitted;  we  know,  for  example,  that  they 
cultivated  music  and  the  power  of  conversation ;  and  were  wel- 
come guests  at  supper-parties.  But  we  have  no  evidence  that 
the  relations  which  they  formed  rested  as  a  rule  on  any 
but  the  simplest  physical  basis.  The  real  distinction, 
under  this  head,  between  the  Greek  point  of  view  and 
our  own,  appears  to  lie  rather  in  the  frankness  with  which 
this  whole  class  of  relations  was  recognised  by  the  Greeks. 
There  were  temples  in  honour  of  Aphrodite  Pandemos, 
the  goddess  of  illicit  love,  and  festivals  celebrated  in  her 
honour;  statues  were  erected  of  famous  courtesans,  of 
Phryne  for  example,  at  Delphi,  between  two  kings;  and 
philosophers  and  statesmen  lived  with  their  mistresses  openly, 
without  any  loss  of  public  reputation.  Every  man,  said  the 
orator  Demosthenes,  requires  besides  his  wife  at  least  two 
mistresses ;  and  this  statement,  made  as  a  matter  of  course 
in  open  court,  is  perhaps  the  most  curious  illustration  we 
possess  of  the  distinction  between  the  Greek  civilisation 
and  our  own,  as  regards  not  the  fact  itself  but  the  light  in 
which  it  was  viewed. 

§  10,  Friendship, 

From  what  has  been  said  about  the  Greek  view  of 
women,  it  might  naturally  have  been  supposed  that  there 
can  have  been  little  place  in  their  life  for  all  that 
we  designate  under  the  term  "romance."  Personal 
affection,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not  the  basis  of  married 
life;  and  relations  with  Hetserse  appear  to  have  been,  in 
this  respect,  no  finer  or  higher  than  similar  relations  in 
our  own  times.  Nevertheless,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to 
conclude,  from  these  conditions,  that  the  element  of  romance 


l68  THE   GREEK    VIEW  OF  LIFE 

was  absent  from  Greek  life.  The  fact  is  simply  that 
with  them  it  took  a  different  form,  that  of  passionate 
friendship  between  men.  Such  friendships,  of  course, 
occur  in  all  nations  and  at  all  times,  but  among  the  Greeks 
they  were,  we  might  say,  an  institution.  Their  ideal  was 
the  development  and  education  of  the  younger  by  the  older 
man,  and  in  this  view  they  were  recognised  and  approved 
by  custom  and  law  as  an  important  factor  in  the  state. 
In  Sparta,  for  example,  it  was  the  rule  that  every  boy  had 
attached  to  him  some  elder  youth  by  whom  he  was  con- 
stantly attended,  admonished,  and  trained,  and  who  shared 
in  public  estimation  the  praise  and  blame  of  his  acts; 
so  that  it  is  even  reported  that  on  one  occasion  a  Spartan 
boy  having  cried  out  in  a  fight,  not  he  himself  but  his 
friend  was  fined  for  the  lapse  of  self-control.  The  custom 
of  Sparta  existed  also  in  Crete.  But  the  most  remarkable 
instance  of  the  deliberate  dedication  of  this  passion  to 
political  and  military  ends  is  that  of  the  celebrated 
"Theban  band,"  a  troop  consisting  exclusively  of  pairs  of 
lovers,  who  marched  and  fought  in  battle  side  by  side,  and 
by  their  presence  and  example  inspired  one  another  to  a 
courage  so  constant  and  high  that  "it  is  stated  that  they 
were  never  beaten  till  the  battle  at  Chaeronea:  and  when 
Philip,  after  the  fight,  took  a  view  of  the  slain,  and  came 
to  the  place  where  the  three  hundred  that  fought  his 
phalanx  lay  dead  together,  he  wondered,  and  understanding 
that  it  was  the  band  of  lovers,  he  shed  tears,  and  said, 
"  Perish  any  man  who  suspects  that  these  men  either  did 
or  suffered  anything  that  was  base."* 

Greek  legend   and   history,   in  fact,   resounds  with  the 

•Plutarch,  Pelopidas.  ck.   i8.~-Ed.  by  Clough. 


FRIENDSHIP  169 

praises  of  friends.  Achilles  and  Patroclus,  Pylades  and 
Orestes,  Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  Solon  and  Peisi- 
stratus,  Socrates  and  Alcibiades,  Epaminondas  and  Pelo- 
pidas, — these  are  names  that  recall  at  once  all  that  is 
highest  in  the  achievement  and  all  that  is  most  romantic 
in  the  passion  of  Greece.  For  it  was  the  prerogative  of 
this  form  of  love,  in  its  finer  manifestations,  that  it  passed 
beyond  persons  to  objective  ends,  linking  emotion  tc 
action  in  a  life  of  common  danger  and  toil.  Not  only, 
nor  primarily,  the  physical  sense  was  touched,  but  mainly 
and  in  chief  the  imagination  and  intellect.  The  affection 
of  Achilles  for  Patroclus  is  as  intense  as  that  of  a  lover 
for  his  mistress,  but  it  has  in  addition  a  body  and 
depth  such  as  only  years  of  common  labour  could  impart. 
"  Achilles  wept,  remembering  his  dear  comrade,  nor  did 
sleep  that  conquereth  all  take  hold  of  him,  but  he  kept 
turning  himself  to  this  side  and  to  that,  yearning  for 
Patroclus'  manhood  and  excellent  valour,  and  all  the  toils 
he  achieved  with  him  and  the  woes  he  bare,  cleaving 
the  battles  of  men  and  the  grievous  waves.  As  he  thought 
thereon  he  shed  big  tears,  now  lying  on  his  side,  now 
on  his  back,  now  on  his  face;  and  then  anon  he  would 
arise  upon  his  feet  and  roam  wildly  beside  the  beach  of 
the  salt  sea."^  That  is  the  ideal  spirit  of  Greek  com- 
radeship—each supporting  the  other  in  his  best  efforts 
and  aims,  mind  assisting  mind  and  hand  hand,  and  tha 
end  of  the  love  residing  not  in  an  easy  satisfaction  of 
itself  but  in  the  development  and  perfecting  of  the  souls 
in  which  it  dwelt. 

Of   such    a    love   we    have   a    record  in  the  elegies  01 
Theognis,  in  which  the  poet  has  embodied,  for  the  benefit 

*  Iliad  XXIV.  3. — Translated  hy  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers. 


170  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

of  Kurnus  his  friend,  the  ripe  experience  of  an  eventful 
Hfe.  The  poems  for  the  most  part  are  didactic  in  char- 
acter, consciously  and  deliberately  aimed  at  the  instruction 
and  guidance  of  the  man  to  whom  they  are  addressed; 
but  every  now  and  again  the  passion  breaks  through  which 
informs  and  inspires  this  virile  intercourse,  and  in  such  a 
passage  as  the  following  gives  us  the  key  to  this  and  to 
all  the  finer  friendships  of  the  Greeks:  — 

"  Lo,  I  have  given  thee  wings  wherewith  to  fly 

Over  the  boundless  ocean  and  the  earth ; 
Yea,  on  the  hps  of  many  shalt  thou  lie, 

The  comrade  of  their  banquet  and  their  mirth. 
Youths  in  their  loveliness  shall  bid  thee  sound 

Upon  the  silver  flute's  melodious  breath ; 
And  when  thou  goest  darkhng  underground 

Down  to  the  lamentable  house  of  death, 
Oh  yet  not  then  from  honour  shalt  thou  cease 

But  wander,  an  imperishable  name, 
Kurnus,  about  the  seas  and  shores  of  Greece, 

Crossing  from  isle  to  isle  the  barren  main. 
Horses  thou  shalt  not  need,  but  lightly  ride 

Sped  by  the  Muses  of  the  violet  crown, 
And  men  to  come,  while  earth  and  sim  abide, 

Who  cherish  song  shall  cherish  thy  renown. 
Yea,  I  have  given  thee  wings,  and  in  return 

Thou  givest  me  the  scorn  with  which  I  burn." 

It  was  his  insistence  on  friendship  as  an  incentive  to 
a  noble  life  that  was  the  secret  of  the  power  of  Socrates. 
Listen,  for  example,  to  the  account  which  Plutarch  gives 
of  his  influence  upon  the  young  Alcibiades: 

'Theognis    237. 


■■^jiammmaH^mmcr 


FRIENDSHIP  1 7  1 

"  Alcibiades,  listening  now  to  language  entirely  free  from 
every  thought  of  unmanly  fondness  and  silly  displays  of 
affection,  finding  himself  with  one  who  sought  to  lay 
open  to  him  the  deficiencies  of  his  mind,  and  repress  his 
vain  and  foolish  arrogance, 

'Dropped   like  the  craven  cock  his  conquered  wing.* 

He  esteemed  these  endeavours  of  Socrates  as  most  truly 
a  means  which  the  gods  made  use  of  for  the  care  and 
preservation  of  youth,  and  began  to  think  meanly  of  him- 
self, and  to  admire  him;  to  be  pleased  with  his  kindness, 
and  to  stand  in  awe  of  his  virtue;  and,  unawares  to 
himself,  there  became  formed  in  his  mind  that  reflex  image 
and  reciprocation  of  love,  or  Anteros,  that  Plato  talks 
of. ... .  Though  Socrates  had  many  and  powerful  rivals, 
yet  the  natural  good  qualities  of  Alcibiades  gave  his 
affection  the  mastery.  His  words  overcame  him  so  much, 
as  to  draw  tears  from  his  eyes,  and  to  disturb  his  very 
soul.  Yet  sometimes  he  would  abandon  himself  to  flat- 
terers, when  they  proposed  to  him  varieties  of  pleasure, 
and  would  desert  Socrates;  who  then  would  pursue  him, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  fugitive  slave.  He  despised  every 
one  else,  and  had  no  reverence  or  awe  for  any  but  him."i 
The  relation  thus  established  may  be  further  illustrated 
by  the  following  graceful  little  anecdote.  Socrates  and 
Alcibiades  were  fellow-soldiers  at  Potidaea  and  shared  the 
same  tent.  In  a  stiff  engagement  both  behaved  with 
gallantry.  At  last  Alcibiades  fell  wounded,  and  Socrates, 
standing  over  him,  defended  and  finally  saved  him.  For 
this   he  might  fairly  have  claimed  the  customary  prize  of 

'Plut.  Ale.  ch.    4.-.Ed.  by  Clough. 


172  THE   GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

valour;  but  he  insisted  on  resigning  it  to  his  friend,  as  an 
incentive  to  his  "ambition  for  noble  deeds." 

Another  illustration  of  the  power  of  this  passion  to  evoke 
and  stimulate  courage  is  given  in  the  story  of  Cleomachus, 
narrated  by  Plutarch.  In  a  battle  between  the  Chal- 
cidians  and  the  Eretrians,  the  cavalry  of  the  former  being 
hard  pressed,  Cleomachus  was  called  upon  to  make  a 
diversion.  He  turned  to  his  friend  and  asked  him  if  he 
intended  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  struggle;  the  youth 
replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  embracing  his  friend, 
with  his  own  hands  buckled  on  his  helmet;  whereupon 
Cleomachus  charged  with  impetuosity,  routed  the  foe  and 
died  gloriously  fighting.  And  thenceforth,  says  Plutarch, 
the  Chalcidians,  who  had  previously  mistrusted  such 
friendships,  cultivated  and  honoured  them  more  than  any 
other  people. 

So  much  indeed  were  the  Greeks  impressed  with  the 
manliness  of  this  passion,  with  its  power  to  prompt  to 
high  thought  and  heroic  action,  that  some  of  the  best  of 
them  set  the  love  of  man  for  man  far  above  that  of  man 
for  woman.  The  one,  they  maintained,  was  primarily  of 
the  spirit,  the  other  primarily  of  the  flesh;  the  one  bent 
upon  shaping  to  the  type  of  all  manly  excellence  both 
the  body  and  the  soul  of  the  beloved,  the  other  upon  a 
passing  pleasure  of  the  senses.  And  they  noted  that 
among  the  barbarians,  who  were  subject  to  tyrants,  this 
passion  was  discouraged,  along  with  gymnastics  and  phi- 
losophy, because  it  was  felt  by  their  masters  that  it  would 
be  fatal  to  their  power;  so  essentially  was  it  the  preroga- 
tive of  freedom,  so  incompatible  with  the  nature  and  the 
status  of  a  slave. 


FRIENDSHIP  173 

It  is  in  the  works  of  Plato  that  this  view  is  most 
completely  and  exquisitely  set  forth.  To  him,  love  is  the 
beginning  of  all  wisdom ;  and  among  all  the  forms  of  love, 
that  one  in  chief,  which  is  conceived  by  one  man  for 
another,  of  which  the  main  operation  and  end  is  in  the 
spirit,  and  which  leads  on  and  out  from  the  passion  for 
a  particular  body  and  soul  to  an  enthusiasm  for  that 
highest  beauty,  wisdom,  and  excellence,  of  which  the  most 
perfect  mortal  forms  are  but  a  faint  and  inadequate  reflec- 
tion. Such  a  love  is  the  initiation  into  the  higher  life,  the 
spring  at  once  of  virtue,  of  philosophy,  and  of  religion. 
Always  operative  in  practice  in  Greek  Hfe  it  was  not 
invented  but  interpreted  by  Plato.  The  philosopher 
merely  gave  an  ideal  expression  to  what  was  stirring  in 
the  heart  of  every  generous  youth ;  and  the  passage  which 
we  have  selected  for  quotation  may  be  taken  as  repre- 
sentative not  only  of  the  personality  of  Plato,  but  of  the 
higher  aspect  of  a  characteristic  phase  of  Greek  civilisation. 

"And  now,  taking  my  leave  of  you,  I  will  rehearse  a 
tale  of  love  which  I  heard  from  Diotima  of  Mantineia,  a 
woman  wise  in  this  and  in  many  other  kinds  of  know- 
ledge. She  was  my  instructress  in  the  art  of  love,  and  I 
shall  repeat  to  you  what  she  said  to  me :  *  On  the  birthday 
of  Aphrodite  there  was  a  feast  of  the  gods,  at  which  the 
god  Poros  or  Plenty,  who  is  the  son  of  Metis  or  Dis- 
cretion, was  one  of  the  guests.  When  the  feast  was  over, 
Penia  or  Poverty,  as  the  manner  is  on  such  occasions, 
came  about  the  doors  to  beg.  Now  Plenty,  who  was  the 
worse  for  nectar  (there  was  no  wine  in  those  days),  went 
into  the  garden  of  Zeus  and  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep;  and 
Poverty  considering  her  own  straitened  circumstances, 
plotted  to  have  a  child  by  him,  and  accordingly  she  lay 


174  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

down  at  his  side  and  conceived  Love,  who  partly  because 
he   is    naturally    a    lover   of   the    beautiful,    and    because 
Aphrodite    is  herself  beautiful,   and   also  because  he  was 
born  on  her  birthday,  is  her  follower  and  attendant.     And 
as  his  parentage  is,  so  also  are  his  fortunes.     In  the  first 
place   he   is   always   poor,    and   anything  but  tender  and 
fair,    as    the   many    imagine    him;    and   he   is  rough  and 
squalid,    and   has   no  shoes,  nor  a  house  to  dwell  in;  on 
the  bare  earth   exposed   he   lies  under  the  open  heaven, 
in  the  streets,  or  at  the  doors  of  houses,  taking  his  rest; 
and   like   his  mother  he   is   always  in  distress.     Like  his 
father   too,   whom   he  also  partly  resembles,  he  is  always 
plotting   against  the  fair  and  good;  he  is  bold,  enterpris- 
ing, strong,  a  mighty  hunter,  always  weaving  some  intrigue 
or  other,   keen   in   the   pursuit   of  wisdom,    fertile  in  re- 
sources ;  a  philosopher  at  all  times,  terrible  as  an  enchanter, 
sorcerer,    sophist.     He    is    by   nature   neither   mortal  nor 
immortal,   but  alive  and  flourishing  at  one  moment  when 
he  is  in  plenty,  and  dead  at  another  moment,  and  again 
alive  by  reason  of  his  father's  nature.     But  that  which  is 
always    flowing    in    is    always    flowing   out,   and    so  he  is 
never  in  want  and  never  in  wealth;  and,  further,  he  is  in 
a  mean  between  ignorance  and  knowledge.     The  truth  of 
the   matter   is   this:    No   god   is   a   philosopher   or  seeker 
after  wisdom,  neither  do  the  ignorant  seek  after  wisdom. 
For  herein  is  the  evil  of  ignorance,  that  he  who  is  neither 
good  nor   wise  is   nevertheless  satisfied   with  himself:  he 
has  no  desire  for  that  of  which  he  feels  no  want.'     *  But 
who  then,  Diotima,'  I  said,  'are  the  lovers  of  wisdom,  if 
they  are  neither  the  wise  nor  the  foolish  ? '     *  A  child  may 
answer  that  question,'  she  replied ;  '  they  are  those  who  are 
in   a  mean  between  the  twoi  Love  is  one  of  them.     For 


t-    _'"' 


FRIENDSHIP  175 

wisdom  is  a  most  beautiful  thing,  and  Love  is  of  the 
beautiful;  and  therefore  Love  is  also  a  philosopher  or 
lover  of  wisdom,  and  being  a  lover  of  wisdom  is  in  a  mean 
between  the  wise  and  the  ignorant.  And  of  this  too  his 
birth  is  the  cause;  for  his  father  is  wealthy  and  wise,  and 
his  mother  poor  and  foolish.  Such,  my  dear  Socrates,  is 
the  nature  of  the  spirit  Love.' 

"  I  said :  *  O  thou  stranger  woman,  thou  sayest  well ; 
but,  assuming  Love  to  be  such  as  you  say,  what  is  the 
use  of  him  to  man  ? ' 

"  '  That,  Socrates,'  she  replied,  *  I  will  attempt  to  unfold : 
of  his  nature  and  birth  I  have  already  spoken;  and  you 
acknowledge  that  Love  is  of  the  beautiful.  But  some  one 
will  say :  Of  the  beautiful  in  what,  Socrates  and  Diotima  ? 
or  rather  let  me  put  the  question  more  clearly,  and  ask : 
When   a   man   loves  the  beautiful,  what  does  he  desire?' 

"I  answered  her,  'That  the  beautiful  may  be  his.' 

"* Still,'  she  said,  'the  answer  suggests  a  further  ques- 
tion: What  is  given  by  the  possession  of  beauty?' 

"'To  what  you  have  asked,'  I  said,  'I  have  no  answer 
ready.' 

"  '  Then,'  she  said,  '  let  me  put  the  word  "  good  "  in  the 
place  of  "beautiful,"  and  repeat  the  question  once  more: 
If  he  who  loves,  loves  the  good,  what  is  it  then  that  he 
loves  ? ' 

" '  The  possession  of  the  good,'  I  said. 

" '  And   what   does   he   gain  who  possesses  the  good  ? ' 

"'Happiness,'  I  replied;  'there  is  less  difficulty  in  answei- 
ing  that  question.' 

"'Yes,'  she  said,  'the  happy  are  made  happy  by  the 
acquisition  of  good  things.  Nor  is  there  any  need  to  ask 
why  a  man  desires  happiness;  the  answer  is  already  final.' 


!76  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF    LIFE 

"'You  are  right,'  I  said. 

"'And  is  this  wish  and  this  desire  common  to  all? 
and  do  all  men  always  desire  their  own  good,  or  only 
some  men? — what  say  you?' 

"'All  men,'  I  replied;  'the  desire  is  common  to  all.' 

"'Then,'  she  said,  'the  simple  truth  is  that  men  love 
the  good.' 

"'Yes,'  I  said. 

"'To  which  must  be  added  that  they  love  the  possession 
of  the  good?' 

"'That  must  be  added  too.' 

"'Then  love,'  she  said,  may  be  described  generally  as 
the  love  of  the  everlasting  possession  of  the  good?' 

"'That  is  most  true.' 

"'Then  if  this  be  the  nature  of  love,  can  you  tell  me 
further,'  she  said,  'what  is  the  manner  of  the  pursuit? 
what  are  they  doing  who  show  all  this  eagerness  and  heat 
which  is  called  love?  and  what  is  the  object  which  they 
have  in  view?     Answer  me.' 

"'Nay,  Diotima,'  I  replied,  'if  I  had  known,  I  should 
not  have  wondered  at  your  wisdom,  neither  should  I  have 
come  to  learn  from  you  about  this  very  matter.' 

"'Well,'  she  said,  'I  will  teach  you: — The  object  which 
they  have  in  view  is  birth  in  beauty,  whether  of  body 
or  soul.' 

"'I  do  not  understand  you,'  I  said;  'the  oracle  requires 
an  explanation.' 

"'  I  will  make  my  meaning  clearer,'  she  replied.  'I  mean 
to  say,  that  all  men  are  bringing  to  the  birth  in  their 
Dodies  and  in  their  souls.  There  is  a  certain  age  at  which 
human  nature  is  desirous  of  procreation — procreation  which 
must   be   in   beauty  and   not  in  deformity;  and  this  pro- 


FRIENDSHIP  177 

creation  is  the  union  of  man  and  woman,  and  is  a  divine 
thing:  for  conception  and  generation  are  an  immortal 
principle  in  the  mortal  creature,  and  in  the  inharmonious 
they  can  never  be.  But  the  deformed  is  always  inhar- 
monious with  the  divine,  and  the  beautiful  harmonious. 
Beauty,  then,  is  the  destiny  or  goddess  of  parturition  who 
presides  at  birth,  and  therefore,  when  approaching  beauty, 
the  conceiving  power  is  propitious,  and  diffusive,  and 
benign,  and  begets  and  bears  fruit :  at  the  sight  of  ugliness 
she  frowns  and  contracts  and  has  a  sense  of  pain,  and 
turns  away,  and  shrivels  up,  and  not  without  a  pang 
refrains  from  conception.  And  this  is  the  reason  why, 
when  the  hour  of  conception  arrives,  and  the  teeming 
nature  is  full,  there  is  such  a  flutter  and  ecstasy  about 
beauty  whose  approach  is  the  alleviation  of  the  pain  of 
travail.  For  love,  Socrates,  is  not  as  you  imagine,  the 
love  of  the  beautiful  only.' 

"'What  then?' 

"*  The  love  of  generation  and  of  birth  in  beauty.' 

"'Yes,'    I  said. 

"  *  Yes  indeed,'    she  replied. 

"'  But   why  of  generation  ?' 

"'Because  to  the  mortal  creature,  generation  is  a  sort 
of  eternity  and  immortality,'  she  replied;  'and  if,  as  has 
been  already  admitted,  love  is  of  the  everlasting  possession 
of  the  good,  all  men  will  necessarily  desire  immortality 
together  with  good :  wherefore  love  is  of  immortality.' 

"  I  was  astonished  at  her  words  and  said :  '  Is  this 
really  true,  O  thou  wise  Diotima?' 

"  And  she  answered  with  all  the  authority  ot  an  accom- 
plished sophist:  'Of  that,  Socrates,  you  may  be  assured; 
— think  only  of  the  ambition  of  men,  and  you  will  wonder 


1 78  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

at  the  senselessness  of  their  ways,  unless  you  consider 
how  they  are  stirred  by  the  love  of  an  immortality  of 
fame.  They  are  ready  to  run  all  risks  greater  far  than 
they  would  have  run  for  their  children,  and  to  spend 
money  and  undergo  any  sort  of  toil,  and  even  to  die,  for 
the  sake  of  leaving  behind  them  a  name  which  shall  be 
eternal.  Do  you  imagine  that  Alcestis  would  have  died 
to  save  Admetus,  or  Achilles  to  avenge  Patroclus,  or  your 
own  Codrus  in  order  to  preserve  the  kingdom  for  his  sons, 
if  they  had  not  imagined  that  the  memory  of  their  virtues, 
which  still  survives  among  us,  would  be  immortal  ?  Nay,' 
she  said,  '  I  am  persuaded  that  all  men  do  all  things, 
and  the  better  they  are  the  more  they  do  them,  in  hope 
of  the  glorious  fame  of  immortal  virtue;  for  they  desire 
the  immortal. 

"  '  Those  who  are  pregnant  in  the  body  only,  betake 
themselves  to  women  and  beget  children — this  is  the 
character  of  their  love;  their  offspring,  as  they  hope,  will 
preserve  their  memory  and  give  them  the  blessedness  and 
immortality  which  they  desire  in  the  future.  But  souls 
which  are  pregnant— for  there  certainly  are  men  who  are 
more  creative  in  their  souls  than  in  their  bodies — conceive 
that  which  is  proper  for  the  soul  to  conceive  or  contain.  And 
what  are  these  conceptions?  wisdom  and  virtue  in  general. 
And  such  creators  are  poets  and  all  artists  who  are  deserving 
of  the  name  inventor.  But  the  greatest  and  fairest  sort  of 
wisdom  by  far  is  that  which  is  concerned  with  the  ordering  of 
states  and  families,  and  which  is  called  temperance  and  justice. 
And  he  who  in  youth  has  the  seed  of  these  implanted 
in  him  and  is  himself  inspired,  when  he  comes  to  maturity 
desires  to  beget  and  generate.  He  wanders  about,  seeking 
beauty   that   he  may  beget  offspring — for  in  deformity  he 


•"*—' — — 


FRIENDSHIP  179 

will  beget  nothing— and  naturally  embraces  the  beautiful 
rather  than  the  deformed  body;  above  all  when  he  finds 
a  fair  and  noble  and  well-nurtured  soul,  he  embraces  the 
two  in  one  person,  and  to  such  a  one  he  is  full  of  speech 
about  virtue  and  the  nature  and  pursuits  of  a  good  man; 
and  he  tries  to  educate  him;  and  at  the  touch  of  the 
beautiful  which  is  ever  present  to  his  memory,  even  when 
absent,  he  brings  forth  that  which  he  had  conceived  long 
before,  and  in  company  with  him  tends  that  which  he 
brings  forth ;  and  they  are  married  by  a  far  nearer  tie  and 
have  a  closer  friendship  than  those  who  beget  mortal 
children,  for  the  children  who  are  their  common  offspring 
are  fairer  and  more  immortal.  Who,  when  he  thinks  of 
Homer  and  Hesiod  and  other  great  poets,  would  not 
rather  have  their  children  than  ordinary  ones?  Who 
would  not  emulate  them  in  the  creation  of  children  such 
as  theirs,  which  have  preserved  their  memory  and  given 
them  everlasting  glory?  Or  who  would  not  have  such 
children  as  Lycurgus  left  behind  him  to  be  the  saviours 
not  only  of  Lacedaemon,  but  of  Hellas,  as  one  may  say? 
There  is  Solon,  too,  who  is  the  revered  father  of  Athenian 
laws;  and  many  others  there  are  in  many  other  places, 
both  among  Hellenes  and  barbarians,  who  have  given  to 
the  world  many  noble  works,  and  have  been  the  parents 
of  virtue  of  every  kind;  and  many  temples  have  been 
raised  in  their  honour  for  the  sake  of  children  such  as 
theirs;  which  were  never  raised  in  honour  of  any  one, 
for  the  sake  of  his  mortal  children. 

" '  These  are  the  lesser  mysteries  of  love,  into  which 
even  you,  Socrates,  may  enter;  to  the  greater  and  more 
hidden  ones  which  are  the  cro\vn  of  these,  and  to  which, 
if  yo'j   pursue   them  in    a   right   spirit,    they   will  lead,  I 


l8o  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

know  not  whether  you  will  be  able  to  attain.  But  I  will 
do  my  utmost  to  inform  you,  and  do  you  follow  if  you 
can.  For  he  who  would  proceed  aright  in  this  matter 
should  begin  in  youth  to  visit  beautiful  forms;  and  first, 
if  he  be  guided  by  his  instructor  aright,  to  love  one  such 
form  only — out  of  that  he  should  create  fair  thoughts; 
and  soon  he  will  of  himself  perceive  that  the  beauty  of 
one  form  is  akin  to  the  beauty  of  another;  and  then  if 
beauty  of  form  in  general  is  his  pursuit,  how  foolish  would 
he  be  not  to  recognise  that  the  beauty  in  every  form  is 
one  and  the  same!  And  when  he  perceives  this  he  will 
abate  his  violent  love  of  the  one,  which  he  will  despise 
and  deem  a  small  thing,  and  will  become  a  lover  of  all 
beautiful  forms.  In  the  next  stage  he  will  consider  that 
the  beauty  of  the  mind  is  more  honourable  than  the 
outward  form.  So  that,  if  a  virtuous  soul  have  but  a  little 
comeliness,  he  will  be  content  to  love  and  tend  him,  and 
will  search  out  and  bring  to  the  birth  thoughts  which 
may  improve  the  young,  until  he  is  compelled  to  con- 
template and  see  the  beauty  of  institutions  and  laws,  and 
to  understand  that  the  beauty  of  them  all  is  of  one  family, 
and  that  personal  beauty  is  a  trifle;  and  after  laws  and 
institutions  he  will  go  on  to  the  sciences,  that  he  may 
see  their  beauty,  being  not  like  a  servant  in  love  with 
the  beauty  of  one  youth  or  man  or  institution,  himself  a 
slave  mean  and  narrow-minded,  but  drawing  towards  and 
contemplating  the  vast  sea  of  beauty,  he  will  create  many 
fair  and  noble  thoughts  and  notions  in  boundless  love  of 
wisdom;  until  on  that  store  he  grows  and  waxes  strong, 
and  at  last  the  vision  is  revealed  to  him  of  a  single 
science  which  is  the  science  of  beauty  everywhere.  To  this 
I  will  proceed ;  please  to  give  me  your  very  best  attention : 


FRIENDSHIP  1 8 1 

"  *  He  who  has  been  instructed  thus  far  in  the  things 
of  love,  and  who  has  learned  to  see  the  beautiful  in  due 
order  and  succession,  when  he  comes  toward  the  end  will 
suddenly  perceive  a  nature  of  wondrous  beauty  (and  this, 
Socrates,  is  the  final  cause  of  all  our  former  toils) — a  na- 
ture which  in  the  first  place  is  everlasting,  not  growing 
and  decaying,  or  waxing  and  waning;  secondly,  not  fair 
in  one  point  of  view  and  foul  in  another,  or  at  one  time 
or  in  one  relation  or  in  one  place  fair,  at  another  time 
or  in  another  relation  or  at  another  place  foul,  as  if  fair 
to  some  and  foul  to  others,  or  in  the  likeness  of  a  face 
or  hands  or  any  other  part  of  the  bodily  frame,  or  in 
any  form  of  speech  or  knowledge,  or  existing  in  any  other 
being,  as  for  example,  in  an  animal,  or  in  heaven,  or  in 
earth,  or  in  any  other  place;  but  beauty  absolute,  separate, 
simple,  and  everlasting,  which  without  diminution  and  with- 
out increase,  or  any  change,  is  imparted  to  the  ever- 
growing and  perishing  beauties  of  all  other  things.  He 
who,  from  these  ascending  under  the  influence  of  true  love, 
begins  to  perceive  that  beauty,  is  not  far  from  the  end. 
And  the  true  order  of  going,  or  being  led  by  another,  to 
the  things  of  love,  is  to  begin  firom  the  beauties  of  earth 
and  mount  upwards  for  the  sake  of  that  other  beauty, 
using  these  as  steps  only,  and  from  one  going  on  to  two, 
and  from  two  to  all  fair  forms,  and  from  fair  forms  to  fair 
practices,  and  from  fair  practices  to  fair  notions,  until  from 
fair  notions  he  arrives  at  the  notion  of  absolute  beauty,  and 
at  last  knows  what  the  essence  of  beauty  is.  This,  my  dear 
Socrates,'  said  the  stranger  of  Mantineia,  *is  that  life 
above  all  others  which  man  should  live,  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  beauty  absolute:  a  beauty  which  if  you  once 
beheld,   you   would    see  not   to  be   after   the  measure  of 

13 


1 82  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

gold,  and  garments,  and  fair  boys  and  youths,  whose 
presence  now  entrances  you;  and  you  and  many  a  one 
would  be  content  to  live  seeing  them  only  and  conversing 
with  them  without  meat  or  drink,  if  that  were  possible, — 
you  only  want  to  look  at  them  and  to  be  with  them. 
But  what  if  man  had  eyes  to  see  the  true  beauty — the 
divine  beauty,  I  mean,  pure  and  clear  and  unalloyed,  not 
clogged  with  the  pollutions  of  mortality  and  all  the  colours 
and  vanities  of  human  Hfe — thither  looking,  and  holding 
converse  with  the  true  beauty  simple  and  divine  ?  Remem- 
ber how  in  that  communion  only,  beholding  beauty  with 
the  eye  of  the  mind,  he  will  be  enabled  to  bring  forth, 
not  images  of  beauty,  but  realities  (for  he  has  hold  not 
of  an  image  but  of  a  realitv),  and  bringing  forth  and 
nourishing  true  virtue  to  become  the  friend  of  God  and 
be  immortal,  if  mortal  man  may.  Would  that  be  an 
ignoble  life?' 

"  Such,  Phaedrus— and  I  speak  not  only  to  you,  but  to 
all  of  you — were  the  words  of  Diotima;  and  I  am  per- 
suaded of  their  truth.  And  being  persuaded  of  them,  I 
try  to  persuade  others,  that  in  the  attainment  of  this  end 
human  nature  will  not  easily  find  a  helper  better  than 
Love.  And  therefore,  also,  I  say  that  every  man  ought 
to  honour  him  as  I  myself  honour  him,  and  walk  in  his 
ways,  and  exhort  others  to  do  the  same,  and  praise  the 
power  and  spirit  of  Love  according  to  the  measure  of  my 
ability  now  and  ever."^ 

I  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  quote  this  passage,  in  spite 

of  its  length,  partly  for  the  sake  of  its  own  intrinsic  beauty, 

partly  because  no  account  of  the  Greek  view  of  life  could 

be    complete    which    did    not  insist  upon  the  prominence 

'  Plato,  Symp.  201. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


SUMMARY  183 

in  their  civilisation  of  the  passion  of  friendship,  and  its 
capacity  of  being  turned  to  the  noblest  uses.  That  there 
was  another  side  to  the  matter  goes  without  saying.  This 
passion,  Hke  any  other,  has  its  depths,  as  well  as  its 
heights;  and  the  ideal  of  friendship  conceived  by  Plato 
was  as  remote,  perhaps,  from  the  experience  of  the  average 
man,  as  Dante's  presentation  of  the  love  between  man  and 
woman.  Still,  the  fact  remains  that  it  was  friendship  of 
this  kind  that  supplied  to  the  Greek  that  element  of  ro- 
mance which  plays  so  large  a  part  in  modem  life;  and  it 
is  to  this,  and  not  to  the  relations  between  men  and 
women,  that  we  must  look  for  the  highest  reaches  of 
their  emotional  experience. 

§  II.  Summary. 

If  now  we  turn  back  to  take  a  general  view  of  the  points 
that  have  been  treated  in  the  present  chapter,  we  shall 
notice,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  ideal  of  the  Greeks  was 
the  direct  and  natural  outcome  of  the  conditions  of  their 
life.  It  was  not  something  beyond  and  above  the  experi- 
ence of  the  class  to  which  it  applied,  but  rather,  was  the 
formula  of  that  experience  itself:  in  philosophical  phrase, 
it  was  immanent  not  transcendent.  Because  there  really 
was  a  class  of  soldier-citizens  free  from  the  necessity  of 
meclianical  toil,  possessed  of  competence  and  leisure,  and 
devoting  these  advantages  willingly  to  the  service  of  the 
State,  therefore  their  ideal  of  conduct  took  the  form  we 
have  described.  It  was  the  ideal  of  a  privileged  class,  and 
postulated  for  its  realisation,  not  only  a  strenuous  endeav- 
our on  the  part  of  the  individual,  but  also  certain  adven- 
titious gifts  of  fortune,  such  as  health,  wealth,  and  family 
connections.     These  were  conditions  that  actually  obtained 


l84  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

among  members  of  the  class  concerned ;  so  that  the  ideal 
in  question  was  not  a  mere  abstract  "ought",  but  an 
expression  of  what,  approximately  at  least,  was  realised 
in  fact. 

But  this,  which  was  the  strength  of  the  ideal  of  the 
Greeks,  was  also  its  limitation.  Their  ethical  system 
rested  not  only  on  universal  facts  of  human  nature, 
but  also  on  a  particular  and  transitory  social  arrange- 
ment. When  therefore  the  city  State,  with  its  sharp 
antithesis  of  classes,  began  to  decline,  the  ideal  of  the 
soldier-citizen  declined  also.  The  conditions  of  its  real- 
isation no  longer  existed,  and  ethical  conceptions  passed 
into  a  new  phase.  In  the  first  place  the  ideal  of  conduct 
was  extended  so  as  to  apply  to  man  as  man,  instead  of 
to  a  particular  class  in  a  particular  form  of  State;  and  in  the 
second  place,  as  a  corollary  of  this,  those  external  goods 
of  fortune  which  were  the  privilege  of  the  few,  could  no 
longer  be  assumed  as  conditions  of  an  ideal  which  was 
supposed  to  apply  to  all.  Consequently  the  new  ideal 
was  conceived  as  wholly  internal.  To  be  virtuous  was  to 
act  under  the  control  of  the  universal  reason  which  v/as 
supposed  to  dwell  in  man  as  man;  and  such  action  was 
independent  of  all  the  gifts  of  chance.  It  was  as  open  to 
a  slave  as  to  a  freeman,  to  an  artisan  as  to  a  soldier  or 
a  statesman.  The  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal 
life  were  indifferent  to  the  virtuous  man;  on  the  rack  as 
on  the  throne  he  was  lord  of  himself  and  free. 

This  conception  of  the  Stoics  broke  down  the  limitation 
of  the  Greek  ideal  by  extending  the  possibility  of  virtue 
to  all  mankind.  But  at  the  same  time  it  destroyed  its  sanity 
and  balance.  For  it  was  precisely  because  of  its  limitation 
that  the  ideal  of  the  Greeks  was,  approximately  at  least, 


SUMMARY  185 

an  account  of  what  was,  and  not  merely  of  what  ought 
to  be.  A  man  possessed  of  wealth  and  friends,  of  leisure, 
health,  and  culture,  really  could  and  did  achieve  the  end 
at  which  he  was  aiming;  but  the  conception  of  one  who 
without  any  such  advantages,  on  the  contrary  with  posi- 
tive disadvantages,  poor,  sickly,  and  a  slave  perhaps,  or 
even  in  prison  or  on  the  rack,  should  nevertheless  retain 
unimpaired  the  dignity  of  manhood  and  the  freedom  of 
his  own  soul — ,  such  a  conception  if  it  is  not  chimerical,  is 
at  any  rate  so  remote  from  common  experience,  that  it 
is  not  capable  of  serving  as  a  really  practical  ideal  for 
ordinary  life.  But  an  ideal  so  remote  that  its  realisation 
is  despaired  of,  is  as  good  as  none.  And  the  conception 
of  the  Stoics,  if  it  was  more  comprehensive  than  that  of 
Aristotle,  was  also  less  practical  and  real. 

By  virtue,  nevertheless,  of  this  comprehensiveness,  the 
Stoic  ideal  is  more  akin  to  modem  tendencies  than  that 
of  the  soldier-citizen  in  the  city-state.  To  provide  for  the 
excellence  of  a  privileged  class  at  the  expense  of  the  rest 
of  the  community  is  becoming  to  us  increasingly  impossible 
in  fact  and  intolerable  in  idea.  But  while  admitting  this, 
we  cannot  but  note  that  the  Greeks,  at  whatever  cost,  did 
actually  achieve  a  development  of  the  individual  more 
high  and  more  complete  than  has  been  even  approached 
by  any  other  age.  Whether  it  will  ever  be  possible,  under 
totally  different  conditions,  to  realise  once  more  that 
balance  of  body  and  soul,  that  sanity  of  ethical  intuition, 
that  frank  recognition  of  the  whole  range  of  our  complex 
human  nature  with  a  view  to  its  harmonious  organisation 
under  the  control  of  a  lucid  reason— whether  it  will  ever  be 
possible  again  to  realise  this  ideal,  and  that  not  only 
in    the  members    of  a   privileged    class,   but  in  the  whole 


L 


1 86  tiifi  GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

body  of  the  State,  is  a  question  too  problematical  to  be 
raised  with  advantage  in  this  place.  But  it  is  impossible 
not  to  perceive  that  with  the  decline  of  the  Greek  city- 
state  something  passed  from  the  world  which  it  can  never 
cease  to  regret,  and  the  recovery  of  which,  if  it  might 
be,  in  some  more  perfect  form,  must  be  the  goal  of  its 
highest  practical  endeavours.  Immense,  no  doubt,  is  the 
significance  of  the  centuries  that  have  intervened,  but  it  is 
a  significance  of  preparation ;  and  when  we  look  beyond  the 
means  to  the  wished-for  end,  limiting  our  conceptions  to 
the  actual  possibilities  of  life  on  earth,  it  is  among  the 
Greeks  that  we  seek  the  record  of  the  highest  achievement 
of  the  past,  and  the  hope  of  tlie  highest  possibilities  oi 
the  future. 


CHAPTER  ly 
THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  ART 

§  I.    Greek    Art   an  Expression  of  National  Life, 

In  approaching  thesubject  of  the  Art  of  the  Greeks  we  come 
to  what,  more  plausibly  than  any  other,  may  be  regarded  as 
the  central  point  of  their  scheme  of  life.  We  have  al- 
ready noticed,  in  dealing  with  other  topics,  how  constantly 
the  aesthetic  point  of  view  emerges  and  predominates  in 
matters  with  which,  in  the  modern  way  of  looking  at  things, 
it  appears  to  have  no  direct  and  natural  connection.  We 
saw,  for  example,  how  inseparable  in  their  religion  was 
the  element  of  ritual  and  ceremony  from  that  of  idea; 
how  in  their  ethical  conceptions  the  primary  notion  was 
that  of  beauty;  how  they  aimed  throughout  at  a  perfect 
balance  of  body  and  soul,  and  more  generally,  in  every 
department,  at  an  expression  of  the  inner  by  the  outer  so 
complete  and  perfect  that  the  conception  of  a  separation  of 
the  two  became  almost  as  impossible  to  their  thought  as  it 
would  have  been  unpleasing  and  discordant  to  their  feeling. 
Now  such  a  point  of  view  is,  in  fact,  that  of  art;  and  philoso- 
phers of  history  have  been  amply  justified  in  characterising 


l88  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

the   whole  Greek  epoch  as  pre-emmently  that  of  Beauty. 

But  if  this  be  a  true  way  of  regarding  the  matter,  we 
should  expect  to  find  that  art  and  beauty  had,  for  the 
Greeks,  a  very  wide  and  complex  significance.  There  is  a 
view  of  art,  and  it  is  one  that  appears  to  be  prevalent 
in  our  own  time,  which  sets  it  altogether  outside  the 
general  trend  of  national  life  and  ideas;  which  asserts 
that  it  has  no  connection  with  ethics,  religion,  politics,  or 
any  of  the  general  conceptions  which  regulate  action  and 
thought;  that  its  end  is  in  itself,  and  is  simply  beauty;  and 
that  in  beauty  there  is  no  distinction  of  high  or  low,  no  prefer- 
ence of  one  kind  above  another.  Art  thus  conceived  is,  in 
the  first  place,  purely  subjective  in  character;  the  artist  alone 
is  the  standard,  and  any  phase  or  mood  of  his,  however 
exceptional,  personal  and  transitory,  is  competent  to  produce 
a  work  of  art  as  satisfying  and  as  great  as  one  whose 
inspiration  was  drawn  from  a  nation's  life,  reflecting  its 
highest  moments,  and  its  most  universal  aspirations  and  ideals; 
so  that,  for  example,  a  butterfly  drawn  by  Mr.  Whistler 
would  rank  as  high,  say,  as  the  Parthenon.  And  in  the 
second  place,  in  this  view  of  art,  the  subject  is  a  matter 
of  absolute  indiff"erence.  The  standards  of  ordinary  life, 
ethical  or  other,  do  not  apply ;  there  is  no  better  or  worse, 
but  only  a  more  or  less  beautiful;  and  the  representation 
of  a  music-hall  stage  or  a  public  house  bar  may  be  as 
great  and  perfect  a  work  of  art  as  the  Venus  of  Milo  or 
the  Madonna  of  Raphael. 

This  theory,  which  arises  naturally  and  perhaps  inevi- 
tably in  an  age  where  national  life  has  degenerated  into 
materialism  and  squalor,  and  the  artist  feels  himself  a 
stranger  in  a  world  of  Philistines,  we  need  not  here  pause 
to   examine  and  criticise.     It  has  been  mentioned  merely 


ART  AN   EXPRESSION  OF  NATIONAL   LIFE       1 89 

to  illustrate  by  contrast  the  Greek  view,  which  was  diametri- 
cally opposed  to  this,  and  valued  art  in  proportion  as  it 
represented  in  perfect  forai  the  highest  and  most  comprehen- 
sive aspects  of  the  national  ideal. 

To  say  this,  is  not,  of  course,  to  say  that  the  Greek 
conception  of  art  was  didactic;  for  the  word  didactic, 
when  applied  to  art,  has  usually  the  implication  that  the 
excellence  of  the  moral  is  the  only  point  to  be  considered, 
and  that  if  that  is  good  the  work  itself  must  be  good. 
This  idea  does  indeed  occur  in  Greek  thought — we  find 
it,  for  example,  paradoxically  enough,  in  so  great  an  artist 
as  Plato — but  if  it  had  been  the  one  which  really  deter- 
mined their  production,  there  would  have  been  no  occasion 
to  write  this  chapter,  for  there  would  have  been  no  Greek 
art  to  write  about.  The  truer  account  of  the  impulse  that 
urged  them  to  create  is  that  given  also  by  Plato  in  an  earlier 
and  more  impassioned  work,  in  which  he  describes  it  as  a 
"  madness  of  those  who  are  possessed  by  the  Muses ;  which 
enters  into  a  dehcate  and  virgin  soul,  and  there  inspiring 
frenzy,  awakens  lyrical  and  all  other  numbers;  with  these 
adorning  the  myriad  actions  of  ancient  heroes  for  the  in- 
struction of  posterity.  But  he  who  having  no  touch  of  the 
Muses'  madness  in  his  soul,  comes  to  the  door  and  thinks 
that  he  will  get  into  the  temple  by  the  help  of  art— he,  I 
say,  and  his  poetry  are  not  admitted;  the  sane  man  is  no- 
where at  all  when  he  enters  into  rivalry  with  the  madman."' 

The  presupposition,  in  fact,  of  all  that  can  be  said  about 
the  Greek  view  of  art,  is  that  primarily  and  to  begin  with 
they  were,  by  nature,  artists.  Judged  simply  by  the  aes- 
thetic standard,  without  any  consideration  of  subject  matter 

»  Plato,  Phacdrus,  245a. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


IQO  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

at  all,  or  any  reference  to  intellectual  or  ethical  ideals, 
they  created  works  of  art  more  purely  beautiful  than  those 
of  any  other  age  or  people.  Their  mere  household 
crockery,  their  common  pots  and  pans,  are  cast  in  shapes 
so  exquisitely  graceful,  and  painted  in  designs  so  admirably 
drawn  and  composed,  that  any  one  of  them  has  a  higher 
artistic  value  than  the  whole  contents  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy; and  the  little  clay  figures  they  used  as  we  do  china 
ornaments  put  to  shame  the  most  ambitious  efforts  of 
modem  sculpture.  Who,  for  example,  would  not  rather 
look  at  a  Tanagra  statuette  than  at  the  equestrian  statue 
of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  ? 

The  Greeks,  in  fact,  quite  apart  from  any  theories  they 
may  have  held,  were  artists  through  and  through ;  and  that 
is  a  fact  we  must  carry  with  us  through  the  whole  of  our 
discussion. 

§  2.  Identijication  of  the  Aesthetic  and  Ethical 
Points  of  View. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  it  seems  to  be  clear  from  all 
that  we  can  learn,  that  their  habitual  way  of  regarding 
works  of  art  was  not  to  judge  them  simply  and  exclusively 
by  their  aesthetic  value.  On  the  contrary,  in  criticising 
two  works  otherwise  equally  beautiful,  they  would  give  a 
higher  place  to  the  one  or  the  other  for  its  ethical  or 
quasi-ethical  qualities.  This  indeed  is  what  we  should 
expect  from  the  comprehensive  sense  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  attached  in  their  tongue  to  the  word  which  we  render 
"beautiful." 

The  aesthetic  and  ethical  spheres,  in  fact,  were  never 
sharply  distinguished  by  the  Greeks;  and  it  follows  that 
as,   on   the   one   hand^   their  conception  of  the  good  wa§ 


AESTHETIC  AND   ETHICAL   POINTS    OF   VIEW    igi 

identified  with  that  of  the  beautiful,  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
their  conception  of  the  beautiful  was  identified  with  that 
of  the  good.  Thus  the  most  beautiful  work  of  art,  in  the 
Greek  sense  of  the  term,  was  that  which  made  the  finest 
and  most  harmonious  appeal  not  only  to  the  physical  but 
to  the  moral  sense,  and  while  communicating  the  highest 
and  most  perfect  pleasure  to  the  eye  or  the  ear,  had  also 
the  power  to  touch  and  inform  the  soul  with  the  grace 
which  was  her  moral  excellence.  Of  this  really  char- 
acteristic Greek  conception,  this  fusion,  so  instinctive  as 
to  be  almost  unconscious,  of  the  aesthetic  and  ethical 
points  of  view,  no  better  illustration  could  be  given  than 
the  following  passage  from  the  RepubHc  of  Plato,  where 
the  philosopher  is  describing  the  effect  of  beautiful  works 
of  art,  and  especially  of  music,  on  the  moral  and  intellectual 
character  of  his  imaginary  citizens: 

"*We  would  not  have  our  guardians  grow  up  amid 
images  of  moral  deformity,  as  in  some  noxious  pasture, 
and  there  browse  and  feed  upon  many  a  baneful  herb 
and  flower  day  by  day,  little  by  little,  until  they  silently 
gather  a  festering  mass  of  corruption  in  their  own  soul. 
Let  our  artists  rather  be  those  who  are  gifted  to  discern 
the  true  nature  of  the  beautiful  and  graceful:  then  will 
our  youth  dwell  in  a  land  of  health,  amid  fair  sights  and 
sounds,  and  receive  the  good  in  everything;  and  beauty, 
the  effluence  of  fair  works,  shaU  flow  into  the  eye  and 
ear,  like  a  healthgiving  breeze  from  a  purer  region,  and 
insensibly  draw  the  soul  from  earliest  years  into  likeness 
and  sympathy  with  the  beauty  of  reason.' 

"'There  can  be  no  nobler  training  than  that,'  ne 
replied. 

"'And  therefore,'  I  said,  "'Glaucon,  musical  training  is 


192  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

a  more  potent  instrument  than  any  other,  because  rhythm 
and  harmony  find  their  way  into  the  inward  places  of 
the  soul,  on  which  they  mightily  fasten,  imparting  grace, 
and  making  the  soul  of  him  who  is  rightly  educated 
graceful,  or  of  him  who  is  ill-educated  ungraceful;  and 
also  because  he  who  has  received  this  true  education  of 
the  inner  being  will  most  shrewdly  perceive  omissions  or 
faults  in  art  and  nature,  and  with  a  true  taste,  while  he 
praises  and  rejoices  over  and  receives  into  his  soul  the 
good,  and  becomes  noble  and  good,  he  will  justly  blame 
and  hate  the  bad,  now  in  tlie  days  of  his  youth,  even 
before  he  is  able  to  know  the  reason  why:  and  when 
reason  comes  he  will  recognise  and  salute  the  friend  with 
whom  his  education  has  made  him  long  familiar."* 

This  fusion  of  the  ideas  of  the  beautiful  and  the  good 
is  the  central  point  in  the  Greek  Theory  of  Art;  and  it 
enables  us  to  understand  how  it  was  that  they  conceived 
art  to  be  educational.  Its  end,  in  their  view,  was  not 
only  pleasure,  though  pleasure  was  essential  to  it;  but 
also,  and  just  as  much,  edification.  Plato,  indeed,  here 
again  exaggerating  the  current  view,  puts  the  edification 
above  the  pleasure.  He  criticises  Homer  as  he  might 
criticise  a  moral  philosopher,  pointing  out  the  inadequacy, 
from  an  ethical  point  of  view,  of  his  conception  of  heaven 
and  of  the  gods,  and  dismissing  as  injurious  and  of  bad 
example  to  youthful  citizens  the  whole  tissue  of  passionate 
human  feeling,  the  irrepressible  outbursts  of  anger  and 
grief  and  fear,  by  virtue  of  which  alone  the  Iliad  and 
the  Odyssey  are  immortal  poems  instead  of  ethical  tracts. 
And  finally,  with  a  half  reluctant  assent  to  the  course  of 

'  Plato,  Republic  iii.  40 t. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


~"^     - 


AESTHETIC    AND   ETHICAL   POINTS    OF    VIEW    193 

his  own  argument,  he  excludes  the  poets  altogether  from 
his  ideal  republic,  on  the  ground  that  they  encourage  their 
hearers  in  that  indulgence  of  emotion  which  it  is  the 
object  of  every  virtuous  man  to  repress.  The  conclusion 
of  Plato,  by  his  own  admission,  was  half  paradoxical,  and 
it  certainly  never  recommended  itself  to  such  a  nation  of 
artists  as  the  Greeks.  But  it  illustrates,  nevertheless,  the 
general  bent  of  their  views  of  art,  that  tendency  to  the 
identification  of  the  beautiful  and  the  good,  which,  while 
it  was  never  pushed  so  far  as  to  choke  art  with  didactics 
— for  Plato  himself,  even  against  his  own  will,  is  a  poet 
— yet  served  to  create  a  standard  of  taste  which  was 
ethical  as  much  as  aesthetic,  and  made  the  judgment  of 
beauty  also  a  judgment  of  moral  worth. 

Quite  in  accordance  with  this  view  we  find  that  the 
central  aim  of  all  Greek  art  is  the  representation  of  human 
character  and  human  ideals.  The  interpretation  of  "  nature  " 
for  its  own  sake  (in  the  narrower  sense  in  which  "  nature  " 
is  opposed  to  man)  is  a  modem  and  romantic  development 
that  would  have  been  unintelligible  to  a  Greek.  Not  that 
the  Greeks  were  without  a  sense  of  what  we  call  the 
beauties  of  nature,  but  that  they  treat  them  habitually, 
not  as  the  centre  of  interest,  but  as  the  background  to 
human  activity.  The  most  beautiful  descriptions  of  nature 
to  be  found  in  Greek  poetry  occur,  incidentally  only,  in 
the  choral  odes  introduced  into  their  dramas;  and  among 
all  their  pictures  of  which  we  have  any  record  there  is 
not  one  that  answers  to  the  description  of  a  landscape; 
the  subject  is  always  mythological  or  historical,  and  the 
representation  of  nature  merely  a  setting  for  the  main 
theme.  And  on  the  other  hand,  the  art  for  which  the 
Greeks  are  most  famous,  and  in  which  they  have  admittedly 


194  THE  GREEK    VIEW   OF  LIFE 

excelled  all  other  peoples,  is  that  art  of  sculpture  whose 
special  function  it  is  not  only  to  represent  but  to  idealise 
the  human  form,  and  which  is  peculiarly  adapted  to 
embody  for  the  sense  not  only  physical  but  ethical  types. 
And,  more  remarkable  still,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to 
observe  later,  the  very  art  which  modern  men  regard  as  the 
most  devoid  of  all  intellectual  content,  the  most  incommensu- 
rable with  any  standard  except  tliat  of  pure  beauty— I 
refer  of  course  to  the  art  of  music — was  invested  by  the 
Greeks  with  a  definite  moral  content  and  worked  into 
their  general  theory  of  art  as  a  direct  interpretation  of 
human  life.  The  excellence  of  man,  in  short,  directly  or 
indirectly,  was  the  point  about  which  Greek  art  turned; 
that  excellence  was  at  once  aesthetic  and  ethical;  and 
the  representation  of  what  was  beautiful  involved  also  the 
representation  of  what  was  good.  This  point  we  will  now 
proceed  to  illustrate  more  in  detail  in  connection  with  the 
various  special  branches  of  art. 

^  J.  Sculpture  and  Painting, 

Let  us  take,  first,  the  plastic  arts,  sculpture  and  paint- 
ing ;  and  to  bring  into  clear  relief  the  Greek  point  of  view 
let  us  contrast  with  it  that  of  the  modem  "impression- 
ist." To  the  impressionist  a  picture  is  simply  an  arrange- 
ment of  colour  and  line;  the  subject  represented  is  nothing, 
the  treatment  everything.  It  would  be  better,  on  the 
whole,  not  even  to  know  what  objects  are  depicted ;  and, 
to  judge  the  picture  by  a  comparison  with  the  objects,  or 
to  consider  what  is  the  worth  of  the  objects  in  themselves, 
or  what  we  might  think  of  them  if  we  came  across  them 
in  the  connections  of  ordinary  life,  is  simply  to  miscon- 
ceive the  whole  meaning  jf  a  picture.     For  the  artist  and  for 


SCULPTURE   AND  PAINTING  1 95 

the  man  who  understands  art,  all  scales  cind  standards 
disappear  except  that  of  the  purely  aesthetic  beauty  which 
consists  in  harmony  of  line  and  tone;  the  most  perfect 
human  form  has  no  more  value  than  a  splash  of  mud; 
or  rather  both  mud  and  human  form  disappear  as  irre- 
levant, and  all  that  is  left  for  judgment  is  the  arrangement 
of  colour  and  form  originally  suggested  by  those  accidental 
and  indifferent  phenomena. 

In  the  Greek  view,  on  the  other  hand,  though  we  cer- 
tainly cannot  say  that  the  subject  was  everything  and  the 
treatment  nothing  (for  that  would  be  merely  the  anni- 
hilation of  art)  yet  we  may  assert  that,  granted  the 
treatment,  granted  that  the  work  was  beautiful  (the  first 
and  indispensable  requirement)  its  worth  was  determined 
by  the  character  of  the  subject.  Sculpture  and  painting, 
in  fact,  to  the  Greeks,  were  not  merely  a  medium  of 
aesthetic  pleasure;  they  were  ways  of  expressing  and 
interpreting  national  life.  As  such  they  were  subordi- 
nated to  religion.  The  primary  end  of  sculpture  was  to 
make  statues  of  the  gods  and  heroes;  the  primary  end 
of  painting  was  to  represent  mythological  scenes;  and 
in  either  case  the  purely  aesthetic  pleasure  was  also  a 
means  to  a  religious  experience. 

Let  us  take,  for  example,  the  statue  of  Zeus  at  Olym- 
pia,  the  most  famous  of  the  works  of  Pheidias.  This 
colossal  figure  of  ivory  and  gold  was  doubtless,  according 
to  all  the  testimony  we  possess,  from  a  merely  aesthetic 
point  of  view,  among  the  most  consummate  creations  of 
human  genius.  But  what  was  the  main  aim  of  the  artist 
who  made  it?  what  the  main  effect  on  the  spectator? 
The  artist  had  designed  and  the  spectator  seemed  to 
behold    a    concrete   image    of   that   Homeric    Zeus    who 


196  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

was  the  centre  of  his  religious  consciousness — the  Zeus  who 
"nodded  his  dark  brow,  and  the  ambrosial  locks  waved 
from  the  King's  immortal  head,  and  he  made  great  Olym- 
pus quake."  ^  "Those  who  approach  the  temple,"  says 
Lucian,  "do  not  conceive  that  they  see  ivory  from  the 
Indies  or  gold  from  the  mines  of  Thrace;  no,  but  the 
very  son  of  Kronos  and  Rhea,  transported  by  Pheidias 
to  earth  and  set  to  watch  over  the  lonely  plain  of  Pisa." 
"He  was,"  says  Dion  Chrysostom,  "the  type  of  that 
unattained  ideal,  Hellas  come  to  unity  with  herself;  in 
expression  at  once  mild  and  awful,  as  befits  the  giver  of 
life  and  all  good  gifts,  the  common  father,  saviour  and 
guardian  of  men;  dignified  as  a  king,  tender  as  a  father, 
awful  as  giver  of  laws,  kind  as  protector  of  suppliants  and 
friends,  simple  and  great  as  giver  of  increase  and  wealth; 
revealing,  in  a  word,  in  form  and  countenance,  the  whole 
array  of  gifts  and  qualities  proper  to  his  supreme  divinity." 

The  description  is  characteristic  of  the  whole  aim  of 
Greek  sculpture, — the  representation  not  only  of  beauty, 
but  of  character,  not  only  of  character  but  of  character 
idealised.  The  statues  of  the  various  gods  derive  their 
distinguishing  individuality  not  merely  from  their  associa- 
tion with  conventional  symbols,  but  from  a  concrete 
reproduction,  in  features,  expression,  drapery,  pose,  of  the 
ethical  and  intellectual  qualities  for  which  they  stand. 
An  Apollo  differs  in  type  from  a  Zeus,  an  Athene  from 
a  Demeter;  and  in  every  case  the  artist  works  from  an 
intellectual  conception,  bent  not  simply  on  a  graceful 
harmony  of  lines,  but  on  the  representation  of  a  character 
at  once  definite  and  ideal. 

Primarily,  then,  Greek  sculpture  was  an  expression  of 
>  Iliad  I.   528. — Translated  by  Lang,  Leaf  and  Myers. 


SCULPTURE  AND   PAINTING  1 97 

the  national  religion;  and  therefore,  also,  of  the  national 
life.  For,  as  we  saw,  the  cult  of  the  gods  was  the  cen- 
tre, not  only  of  the  religious  but  of  the  political  con- 
sciousness of  Greece;  and  an  art  w^hich  was  born  and 
flourished  in  the  temple  and  the  sacred  grove,  naturally 
became  the  exponent  of  the  ideal  aspect  of  the  state.  It 
was  thus,  for  example,  that  the  Parthenon  at  Athens  was 
at  once  the  centre  of  the  worship  of  Athene,  and  a 
symbol  of  the  corporate  life  over  which  she  presided ;  the 
statue  of  the  goddess  having  as  its  appropriate  complement 
the  frieze  over  which  the  spirit  of  the  city  moved  in  stone. 
And  thus,  too,  the  statues  of  the  victors  at  the  Olympian 
games  were  dedicated  in  the  sacred  precinct,  as  a  memorial 
of  what  was  not  only  an  athletic  meeting,  but  also  at 
once  a  centre  of  Hellenic  unity  and  the  most  consum- 
mate expression  of  that  aspect  of  their  culture  which 
contributed  at  least  as  much  to  their  aesthetic  as  to  their 
physical  perfection. 

Sculpture,  in  fact,  throughout,  was  subordinated  to 
religion,  and  through  religion  to  national  life;  and  it  was 
from  this  that  it  derived  its  ideal  and  intellectual  character. 
And,  so  far  as  our  authorities  enable  us  to  judge,  the  same 
is  true  of  painting.  The  great  pictures  of  which  we  have 
descriptions  were  painted  to  adorn  temples  and  public 
buildings,  and  represented  either  mythological  or  national 
themes.  Such,  for  example,  was  the  great  v/ork  of  Poly- 
gnotus  at  Delphi,  in  which  was  depicted  on  the  one  hand 
the  sack  of  Troy,  on  the  other  the  descent  of  Odysseus 
into  Hades;  and  such  his  representation  of  the  battle  of 
Marathon,  in  the  painted  porch  that  led  to  the  Acropolis 
of  Athens.     And  even  the  vase  paintings  of  which  we  have 

innumerable  examples,  and  which  are  mere  decorations  of 

14 


1 98  THE  GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

common  domestic  utensils,  have  often  enough  some  story 
of  gods  and  heroes  for  their  theme,  whereby  over  and 
above  their  purely  aesthetic  value  they  made  their  appeal 
to  the  general  religious  consciousness  of  Greece.  Painting, 
like  sculpture,  had  its  end,  in  a  sense,  outside  itself;  and 
from  this  very  fact  derived  its  peculiar  dignity,  simplicity, 
and  power. 

From  this  account  of  the  plastic  art  of  the  Greeks  it 
follows  as  a  simple  corollary,  that  their  aim  was  not  merely 
to  reproduce  but  to  transcend  nature.  For  their  sub- 
ject was  gods  and  heroes,  and  heroes  and  gods  were 
superior  to  men.  Of  this  idealising  tendency  we  have  in 
sculpture  evidence  enough  in  the  many  examples  which 
have  been  preserved  to  us;  and  with  regard  to  painting 
there  is  curious  literary  testimony  to  the  same  effect. 
Aristotle,  for  example,  remarks  that  "even  if  it  is  impos- 
sible that  men  should  be  such  as  Zeuxis  painted  them, 
yet  it  is  better  that  he  should  paint  them  so;  for  the 
example  ought  to  excel  that  for  which  it  is  an  example."  * 
And  in  an  imaginary  conversation  recorded  between  Socrates 
and  Parrhasius  the  artist  admits  without  any  hesitation  that 
more  pleasure  is  to  be  derived  from  pictures  of  men  who 
are  morally  good  than  from  those  of  men  who  are  morally 
bad.  In  the  Greek  view,  in  fact,  as  we  saw,  physical  and 
moral  excellence  went  together,  and  it  was  excellence 
they  sought  to  depict  in  their  art;  not  merely  aesthetic 
beauty,  though  that  was  a  necessary  presupposition,  but 
on  the  top  of  that,  ideal  types  of  character  representative 
of  their  conception  of  the  hero  and  the  god.  Art,  in  a 
word,  was  subordinate  to  the  ethical  ideal;  or  rather  the 
ethical  and  aesthetic  ideals  were  not  yet  dissociated;  and 
1  Arist.  Poet.  xxv. — 1461.  6.   12. 


MUSIC  AND  THE  DANCE  1 99 

the  greatest  artists  the  world  has  ever  known  worked 
deliberately  under  the  direction  and  inspiration  of  the 
ideas  tliat  controlled  and  determined  the  life  of  their  time. 

§  4,  Music  and  the  Dafice. 

Turning  now  from  the  plastic  arts  to  that  other  group 
which  the  Greeks  classed  together  under  the  name  of 
"Music" — namely  music,  in  the  narrower  sense,  dancing 
and  poetry — we  find  still  more  clearly  emphasised  and 
more  elaborately  worked  out  the  subordination  of  aesthetic 
to  ethical  and  religious  ends.  "  Music,"  in  fact,  as  they 
used  the  term,  was  the  centre  of  Greek  education,  and  its 
moral  character  thus  became  a  matter  of  primary  importance. 
By  it  were  formed,  it  was  supposed,  the  mind  and  temper  of 
the  citizens,  and  so  the  whole  constitution  of  the  state. 
"The  introduction  of  a  new  kind  of  music,"  says  Plato, 
"must  be  shunned  as  imperilling  the  whole  state;  since 
styles  of  music  are  never  disturbed  without  afiecting  the 
most  important  political  institutions."  "The  new  style," 
he  goes  on,  "gradually  gaining  a  lodgment,  quietly  in- 
sinuates itself  into  manners  and  customs;  and  from  these 
it  issues  in  greater  force,  and  makes  its  way  into  mutual 
compacts:  and  from  compacts  it  goes  on  to  attack  laws 
and  constitutions,  displaying  the  utmost  impudence,  until 
it  ends  by  overturning  everything,  both  in  public  and  in 
private."  *  And  as  in  his  Republic  he  had  defined  the 
character  of  the  poetry  that  should  be  admitted  into  his 
ideal  state,  so  in  the  "  Laws "  he  specially  defines  the 
character  of  the  melodies  and  dances,  regarding  them  as 
the  most  important  factor  in  determining  and  preserving 
the  manners  and  institutions  of  the  citizens. 

^  Plato,  Rep.  iv. — 424c. — Translated  by  Davies  and  Vaughan. 


«00  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

Nothing,  at  first  sight,  to  a  modern  mind,  could,  be 
stranger  than  this  point  of  view.  That  poetry  has  a 
bearing  on  conduct  we  can  indeed  understand,  though 
we  do  not  make  poetry  the  centre  of  our  system  of 
education;  but  that  moral  efifects  should  be  attributed  to 
music  and  to  dancing  and  that  these  should  be  regarded 
as  of  such  importance  as  to  influence  profoundly  the 
whole  constitution  of  a  state,  will  appear  to  the  majority 
of  modem  men  an  unintelligible  paradox. 

Yet  no  opinion  of  the  Greeks  is  more  profoundly  char- 
acteristic than  this  of  their  whole  way  of  regarding  life, 
and  none  would  better  repay  a  careful  study.  That  moral 
character  should  be  attributed  to  the  influence  of  music 
is  only  one  and  perhaps  the  most  striking  illustration  of 
that  general  identification  by  the  Greeks  of  the  ethical  and 
the  aesthetic  standards  on  which  we  have  so  frequently 
had  occasion  to  insist.  Virtue,  in  their  conception,  was 
not  a  hard  conformity  to  a  law  felt  as  alien  to  the  natural 
character;  it  was  the  free  expression  of  a  beautiful  and 
harmonious  soul.  And  this  very  metaphor  "  harmonious,  " 
which  they  so  constantly  employ,  involves  the  idea  of  a 
close  connection  between  music  and  morals.  Character, 
in  the  Greek  view,  is  a  certain  proportion  of  the  various 
elements  of  the  soul,  and  the  right  character  is  the  right 
proportion.  But  the  relation  in  which  these  elements 
stand  to  one  another  could  be  directly  affected,  it  was 
foimd,  by  means  of  music;  not  only  could  the  different 
emotions  be  excited  or  assuaged  in  various  degrees,  but 
the  whole  relation  of  the  emotional  to  the  rational 
element  could  be  regulated  and  controlled  by  the 
appropriate  melody  and  measure.  That  this  connection 
between  music  and  morals  really  does  exist  is  recognised, 


MUSIC    AND    THE  DANCE  201 

in  a  rough  and  general  way,  by  most  people  who  have 
any  musical  sense.  There  are  rhythms  and  tunes,  for 
example,  that  are  felt  to  be  vulgar  and  base,  and  others 
that  are  felt  to  be  ennobling;  some  music,  Wagner's,  for 
instance,  is  frequently  called  immoral ;  Gounod  is  described 
as  enervating,  Beethoven  as  bracing,  and  the  like;  and 
however  absurd  such  comments  may  often  appear  to 
be  in  detail,  underlying  them  is  the  undoubtedly  well- 
grounded  sense  that  various  kinds  of  music  have  various 
ethical  qualities.  But  it  is  just  this  side  of  music,  which 
has  been  neglected  in  modem  times,  that  was  the  one  on 
which  the  Greeks  laid  most  stress.  Infinitely  inferior  to 
the  moderns  in  the  mechanical  resources  of  the  art,  they 
had  made,  it  appears,  a  far  finer  and  closer  analysis  of 
its  relation  to  emotional  states;  with  the  result  that  even 
in  music,  which  we  describe  as  the  purest  of  the  arts, 
congratulating  ourselves  on  its  absolute  dissociation  from 
all  definite  intellectual  conceptions, — even  here  the  standard 
of  the  Greeks  was  as  much  ethical  as  aesthetic,  and  the 
style  of  music  was  distinguished  and  its  value  appraised, 
not  only  by  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  it,  but  also 
by  the  effect  it  tended  to  produce  on  character. 

Of  this  position  we  have  a  clear  and  definite  statement 
in  Aristotle.  Virtue,  he  says,  consists  in  loving  and  hating 
in  the  proper  way,  and  implies,  therefore,  a  delight  in 
the  proper  emotions;  but  emotions  of  any  kind  are  pro- 
duced by  melody  and  rhythm ;  therefore  by  music  a  man 
becomes  accustomed  to  feeling  the  right  emotions.  Music 
has  thus  the  power  to  form  character;  and  the  various 
kinds  of  music,  based  on  the  various  modes,  may  be 
distinguished  by  their  effects  on  character — one,  for  example, 
working  in   the   direction  of  melancholy,  another  of  effe- 


20i  THE  GREEK  VIEW   OF  LIF^ 

minacy;  one  encouraging  abandonment,  another  self- 
control,  another  enthusiasm,  and  so  on  through  the 
series.  It  follows  that  music  may  be  judged  not  merely 
by  the  pleasure  it  gives,  but  by  the  character  of  its  moral 
influence;  pleasure,  indeed,  is  essential  or  there  would 
be  no  art;  but  the  difierent  kinds  of  pleasure  given  by 
different  kinds  of  music  are  to  be  distinguished  not  merely 
by  quantity,  but  by  quality.  One  will  produce  a  right 
pleasure  of  which  the  good  man  will  approve,  and  which 
will  have  a  good  effect  on  character;  another  will  be  in 
exactly  the  opposite  case.  Or,  as  Plato  puts  it.  "the 
excellence  of  music  is  to  be  measured  by  pleasure.  But 
the  pleasure  must  not  be  that  of  chance  persons;  the 
fairest  music  is  that  which  delights  the  best  and  best- 
educated,  and  especially  that  which  delights  the  one  man 
who  is  pre-eminent  in  virtue  and  education."  * 

We  see  then  that  even  pure  music,  to  the  Greeks, 
had  a  distinct  and  definite  ethical  bearing.  But  this 
ethical  influence  was  further  emphasised  by  the  fact 
that  it  was  not  their  custom  to  enjoy  their  music  pure. 
What  they  called  "music,"  as  has  been  already  pointed 
out,  was  an  intimate  union  of  melody,  verse  and  dance, 
so  that  the  particular  emotional  meaning  of  the  rhythm 
and  tune  employed  was  brought  out  into  perfect  lucidity 
by  the  accompanying  words  and  gestures.  Thus  we 
find,  for  example,  that  Plato  characterises  a  tendency 
in  his  own  time  to  the  separation  of  melody  and 
verse  as  a  sign  of  a  want  of  true  artistic  taste;  for, 
he  says,  it  is  very  hard,  in  the  absence  of  words,  to 
distinguish  the  exact  character  of  the  mood  which  the 
rhythm  and  tune  is  supposed  to  represent.  In  this  con- 
*  Plato  Laws.  ii.  6586.— Translated  by  Jowett. 


MUSIC  AND   THE  DANCE  203 

nection  it  may  be  interesting  to  refer  to  the  use  of  the 
"  hii-motiv''  in  modern  music.  Here  too  a  particular  idea, 
if  not  a  particular  set  of  words,  is  associated  with  a  par- 
ticular musical  phrase ;  the  intention  of  the  practice  being 
clearly  the  same  as  that  which  is  indicated  in  the  passage 
just  quoted,  namely  to  add  precision  and  definiteness  to 
the  vague  emotional  content  of  pure  music. 

And  this  determining  efifect  of  words  was  further  en- 
hanced, in  the  music  of  the  Greeks,  by  the  additional 
accompaniment  of  the  dance.  The  emotional  character 
conveyed  to  the  mind  by  the  words  and  to  the  ear  by 
the  tune,  was  further  explained  to  the  eye  by  gesture, 
pose,  and  beat  of  foot;  tJie  combination  of  the  three  modes 
of  expression  forming  thus  in  the  Greek  sense  a  single 
**  imitative  "  art.  The  dance  as  well  as  the  melody  came 
thus  to  have  a  definite  ethical  significance;  "it  imitates," 
says  Aristotle,  "character,  emotion,  and  action."  And 
Plato  in  his  ideal  repubUc  would  regulate  by  law  the 
dances  no  less  than  the  melodies  to  be  employed,  dis- 
tinguishing them  too  as  morally  good  or  morally  bad,  and 
encouraging  the  one  while  he  forbids  the  other. 

The  general  Greek  view  of  music  which  has  thus  been 
briefly  expounded,  the  union  of  melody  and  rhythm  with 
poetry  and  the  dance  in  view  of  a  definite  and  consciously 
intended  ethical  character,  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following 
passage  of  Plutarch,  in  which  he  describes  the  music  in 
vogue  at  Sparta.  The  whole  system,  it  will  be  observed, 
is  designed  with  a  view  to  that  military  courage  which 
was  the  virtue  most  prized  in  the  Spartan  state,  and  the 
one  about  which  all  their  institutions  centred.  Music 
at  Sparta  actually  was,  what  Plato  would  have  had  it  in 
his    ideal  republic,  a  public  and  state-regulated  function; 


204  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

and  even  that  vigorous  race  which  of  all  the  Greeks  came 
nearest  to  being  Philistines  of  virtue,  thought  fit  to  lay  a 
foundation  purely  aesthetic  for  their  severe  and  soldierly  ideal. 
"  Their  instruction  in  music  and  verse,  "  says  Plutarch, 
"was  not  less  carefully  attended  to  than  their  habits  of 
grace  and  good-breeding  in  conversation.  And  their  very 
songs  had  a  life  and  spirit  in  them  that  inflamed  and  pos- 
sessed men's  minds  with  an  enthusiasm  and  ardour  for 
action;  the  style  of  them  was  plain  and  without  affectation; 
the  subject  always  serious  and  moral;  most  usually,  it  was 
in  praise  of  such  men  as  had  died  in  defence  of  their 
country,  or  in  derision  of  those  that  had  been  cowards; 
the  former  they  declared  happy  and  glorified;  the  life  ot 
the  latter  they  described  as  most  miserable  and  abject. 
There  were  also  vaunts  of  what  they  would  do  and  boasts 
of  what  they  had  done,  varying  with  the  various  ages ;  as, 
for  example,  they  had  three  choirs  in  their  solemn  festivals, 
the  first  of  the  old  men,  the  second  of  the  young  men, 
and  the  last  of  the  children;  the  old  men  began  thus: 

"We  once  were  young  and  brave  and  strong; 
the  young  men  answered  them,  singing; 

And  we're  so  now,  come  on  and  try: 
the  children  came  last  and  said : 

But  we'll  be  strongest  by  and  bye. 

Indeed  if  we  will  take  the  pains  to  consider  their 
compositions,  and  the  airs  on  the  flute  to  which  they 
marched  when  going  to  battle,  we  shall  find  that  Terpander 
and  Pindar  had  reason  to  say  that  music  and  valour  were 
allied."* 

*  Plutarch,  Lycurgus,  ch.   21. — Clough's  ed. 


MUSIC  AND  THE  DANCE  205 

The  way  of  regarding  music  which  is  illustrated  in  this 
passage,  and  in  all  that  is  said  on  the  subject  by  Greek 
writers,  is  so  typical  of  the  whole  point  of  view  of  the 
Greeks,  that  we  may  be  pardoned  for  insisting  once  again 
on  the  attitude  of  mind  which  it  implies.  IMusic,  as  we 
saw,  had  an  ethical  value  to  the  Greeks;  but  that  is  not 
to  say  that  they  put  the  ethics  first,  and  the  music  second, 
using  the  one  as  a  mere  tool  of  the  other.  Rather  an 
ethical  state  of  mind  was  also,  in  their  view,  a  musical 
one.  In  a  sense  something  more  than  metaphorical,  virtue 
was  a  harmony  of  the  soul.  The  musical  end  was  thus 
identical  with  the  ethical  one.  The  most  beautiful  music 
was  also  the  morally  best,  and  vice  versa;  virtue  was  not 
prior  to  beauty,  nor  beauty  to  virtue;  they  were  two 
aspects  of  the  same  reality,  two  ways  of  regarding  a  single 
fact ;  and  if  aesthetic  effects  were  supposed  to  be  amenable 
to  ethical  judgment,  it  was  only  because  ethical  judgments 
at  bottom  were  aesthetic.  The  "  good  "  and  the  "  beautiful " 
were  one  and  the  same  thmg;  that  is  the  first  and  last 
word  of  the  Greek  ideal. 

And  while  thus,  on  the  one  hand,  virtue  was  invested 
with  the  spontaneity  and  delight  of  art,  on  the  other,  art 
derived  from  its  association  with  ethics  emotional  preci- 
sion. In  modern  times  the  end  of  music  is  commonly 
conceived  to  be  simply  and  without  more  ado  the  ex- 
citement of  feeling.  Its  value  is  measured  by  the  intensity 
rather  than  the  quality  of  the  emotion  which  it  is  capable 
of  arousing;  and  the  auditor  abandons  himself  to  a  casual 
succession  of  highly  wrought  moods  as  bewildering  in  the 
actual  experience  as  it  is  exhausting  in  the  after-effects. 
In  Greek  music,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  may  trust  our 
accounts,   while   the  intensity  of  the  feeling  excited  must 


2o6  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

have  been  far  less  than  that  which  it  is  in  the  power  of 
modern  instrumentation  to  evoke,  its  character  was  perfectly 
simple  and  definite.  Melody,  rhythm,  gesture  and  words, 
were  all  consciously  adapted  to  the  production  of  a  single 
precisely  conceived  emotional  effect;  the  listener  was  in  a 
position  clearly  to  understand  and  appraise  the  value  of 
the  mood  excited  in  him ;  instead  of  being  exhausted  and 
confused  by  a  chaos  of  vague  and  conflicting  emotion  he 
had  the  sense  of  relief  which  accompanies  the  deliverance 
of  a  definite  passion,  and  returned  to  his  ordinary  business 
"  purged ",  as  they  said,  and  tranquillised,  by  a  process 
which  he  understood,  directed  to  an  end  of  which  he 
approved. 

^  5.  Poetry. 

If  now,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  plastic  arts,  and  in  an  art 
which  appears  to  us  so  pure  as  music,  the  Greeks  perceived 
and  valued,  along  with  the  immediate  pleasure  of  beauty, 
a  definite  ethical  character  and  bent,  much  more  was 
this  the  case  with  poetry,  whose  material  is  conceptions 
and  ideas.  The  works  of  the  poets,  and  especially  of 
Homer,  were  in  fact  to  the  Greeks  all  that  moral  treatises 
are  to  us ;  or  rather,  instead  of  learning  their  lessons  in 
abstract  terms,  they  learnt  them  out  of  the  concrete  repre- 
sentation of  life.  Poetry  was  the  basis  of  their  education, 
the  guide  and  commentary  of  their  practice,  the  inspiration 
of  their  speculative  thought.  If  they  have  a  proposition  to 
advance,  they  must  back  it  by  a  citation:  if  they  have 
a  counsel  to  offer,  they  must  prop  it  with  a  verse.  Not 
only  for  delight,  but  for  inspiration,  warning  and  example, 
they  were  steeped  from  childhood  onwards  in  an  ocean 
of  melodious  discourse;  their  national  epics  were  to  them 


t^OETRV  207 

what  the  Bible  was  to  the  Puritans;  and  for  every  con- 
junction of  fortune,  for  every  issue  of  home  or  state, 
they  found  therein  a  text  to  prompt  or  reinforce  their 
decision.  Of  this  importance  of  poetry  in  the  life  of 
ancient  Greece,  and  generally  of  the  importance  of 
music  and  art,  the  following  passage  from  Plato  is  a 
striking  illustration :  •*  When  the  boy  has  learned  his  letters 
and  is  beginning  to  understand  what  is  written,  as  before 
he  understood  only  what  was  spoken,  they  put  into  his 
hands  tlie  works  of  great  poets,  which  he  reads  at  school; 
in  these  are  contained  many  admonitions,  and  many  tales, 
and  praises,  and  encomia  of  ancient  famous  men,  which 
he  is  required  to  learn  by  heart,  in  order  that  he  may 
imitate  or  emulate  them  and  desire  to  become  like  them. 
Then  again  the  teachers  of  the  lyre  take  similar  care 
that  their  young  disciple  is  temperate  and  gets  into  no 
mischief;  and  when  they  have  taught  him  the  use  of  the 
lyre,  they  introduce  him  to  the  poems  of  other  excellent 
poets,  who  are  the  lyric  poets;  and  these  they  set  to 
music  and  make  their  harmonies  and  rhythms  quite 
familiar  to  the  children's  souls,  in  order  that  they  may 
learn  to  be  more  gentle  and  harmonious  and  rhythmical, 
and  so  more  fitted  for  speech  and  action;  for  the  life  of 
man  in  every  part  has  need  of  harmony  and  rhythm."* 
From  this  conception  of  poetry  as  a  storehouse  of  prac- 
tical wisdom  the  transition  is  easy  to  a  purely  ethical  judg- 
ment of  its  value;  and  that  transition,  as  has  been  already 
noted,  was  actually  made  by  Plato,  who  even  goes  so  far  as 
to  prescribe  to  poets  the  direct  inculcation  of  such  morals 
as  are  proper  to  a  tract,  as  that  the  good  and  just  man  is 
happy  even  though  he  be  poor,  and  the  bad  and  unjust 
^  Plato    Trot.    325c. — Translated  by  Jowett. 


2o8  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

man  miserable  even  though  he  be  rich.  This  didacticism, 
no  doubt,  is  a  parody;  but  it  is  a  parody  of  the  normal 
Greek  view,  that  the  excellence  of  a  poem  is  closely  bound 
up  with  the  compass  and  depth  of  its  whole  ethical  content, 
and  is  not  to  be  measured,  as  many  modems  maintain, 
merely  by  the  aesthetic  beauty  of  its  form.  When  Strabo 
says,  "  it  is  impossible  to  be  a  good  poet  unless  you  are 
first  a  good  man,"  he  is  expressing  the  common  opinion 
of  the  Greeks  that  the  poet  is  to  be  judged  not 
merely  as  an  artist  but  as  an  interpreter  of  life;  and  the 
same  presupposition  underlies  the  remark  of  Aristotle  that 
poets  may  be  classified  according  as  the  characters  they 
represent  are  as  good  as,  better,  or  worse  than  the 
average  man. 

But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  illustration  of  this 
way  of  regarding  poetry  is  the  passage  in  the  "  Frogs " 
of  Aristophanes,  where  the  comedian  has  introduced  a 
controversy  between  ^schylus  and  Euripides  as  to  the 
relative  merit  of  their  works,  and  has  made  the  decision 
turn  almost  entirely  on  moral  considerations,  the  question 
being  really  whether  or  no  Euripides  is  to  be  regarded  as 
a  corrupter  of  his  countrymen.  In  the  course  of  the  dis- 
cussion ^schylus  is  made  to  give  expression  to  a  view 
of  poetry  which  clearly  enough  Aristophanes  endorses 
himself,  and  which  no  doubt  would  be  accepted  by  the 
majority  of  his  audience.  He  appeals  to  all  antiquity  to 
shew  that  poets  have  always  been  the  instructors  of  mankind, 
and  that  it  is  for  this  that  they  are  held  in  honour. 

"Look   to  traditional  history,  look 
To  antiquity,  primitive,  early,  remote; 
See  there,  what  a  blessing  illustrious  poets 


TRAGEDY  209 

Conferr'd  on  mankind,  in  the  centuries  past. 

Orpheus  instructed  mankind  in  religion, 

Reclaim'd  them  from  bloodshed  and  barbarous  rites; 

Musaeus  deliver'd  the  doctrine  of  med'cine, 

And  warnings  prophetic  for  ages  to  come; 

Next  came  old  Hesiod,  teaching  us  husbandry, 

Ploughing,  and  sowing,  and  rural  affairs, 

Rural  economy,  rural  astronomy, 

Homely  morality,  labour,  and  thrift; 

Homer  himself,  our  adorable  Homer, 

What  was  his  title  to  praise  and  renown? 

What,  but  the  worth  of  the  lessons  he  taught  us 

Discipline,  arms,  and  equipment  of  war  ?  "  ^ 

While  then  there  is,  as  we  should  naturally  expect, 
plenty  of  Greek  poetry  which  is  simply  the  spontaneous 
expression  of  passionate  feeling,  unrestrained  by  the  con- 
sideration of  ethical  or  other  ends ;  yet  if  we  take  for  our 
type  (as  we  are  fairly  entitled  to  do,  from  the  prominent 
place  it  held  in  Greek  life),  not  the  lyrics  but  the  drama 
of  Greece,  we  shall  find  that  in  poetry  even  (as  was  to  be 
expected)  to  a  higher  degree  than  in  music  and  the  plastic 
arts,  the  beauty  sought  and  achieved  is  one  that  lies  within 
the  limits  of  certain  definite  moral  pre-suppositions.  Let 
us  consider  this  point  in  some  detail;  and  first  let  us 
examine  the  character  of  Greek  tragedy. 

§  6.   Tragedy. 

The  character  of  Greek  tragedy  was  determined  from 
the  very  beginning  by  the  fact  of  its  connection  with 
religion.  The  season  at  which  it  was  performed  was  the 
festival  of  Dionysus;  about  his  altar  the  chorus  danced; 
and  the  object  of  the  performance  was  the  representation 
'Aristoph.  Frogs,    1030. — Translated  by  Frere. 


2IO  THE   GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

of  scenes  out  of  the  lives  of  ancient  heroes.  The  subject 
of  the  drama  was  thus  strictly  prescribed;  it  must  be 
selected  out  of  a  cycle  of  legends  familiar  to  the  audience ; 
and  whatever  freedom  might  be  allowed  to  the  poet  in 
his  treatment  of  the  theme,  whatever  the  reflections  he 
might  embroider  upon  it,  the  speculative  or  ethical  views, 
the  criticism  of  contemporary  life,  all  must  be  subservient 
to  the  main  object  originally  proposed,  the  setting  forth, 
for  edification  as  well  as  for  delight,  of  some  episodes  in 
the  hves  of  those  heroes  of  the  past  who  were  considered 
not  only  to  be  greater  than  their  descendants,  but  to  be 
the  sons  of  gods  and  worthy  themselves  of  worship  as 
divine. 

By  this  fundamental  condition  the  tragedy  of  the  Greeks 
is  distinguished  sharply,  on  the  one  hand  from  the  Shake- 
spearian drama,  on  the  other  from  the  classical  drama  ol 
the  French.  The  tragedies  of  Shakespeare  are  devoid, 
one  might  say,  or  at  least  comparatively  devoid,  of  all 
preconceptions.  He  was  free  to  choose  what  subject  he 
liked  and  to  treat  it  as  he  would;  and  no  sense  of  obli- 
gation to  religious  or  other  points  of  view,  no  feeling  foi 
traditions  descended  from  a  sacred  past  and  not  lightly 
to  be  handled  by  those  who  were  their  trustees  for  the 
future,  sobered  or  restrained  for  evil  or  for  good  his  half- 
barbaric  genius.  He  flung  himself  upon  life  with  the 
irresponsible  ardour  of  the  discoverer  of  a  new  continent; 
shaped  and  re-shaped  it  as  he  chose;  carved  from  it  now 
the  cynicism  of  Measure  for  Measure,  now  the  despair 
of  Hamlet  and  of  Lear,  now  the  radiant  magnanimity  of 
the  Tempest,  and  departed  leaving  behind  him  not 
a  map  or  chart,  but  a  series  of  mutually  incompatible 
landscapes. 


TRAGEDY  2  I  1 

What  Shakespeare  gave,  in  short,  was  a  many-sided  repre- 
sentation of  Hfe;  what  the  Greek  dramatist  gave  was  an 
interpretation.  But  an  interpretiition  not  simply  personal 
to  himself,  but  representative  of  the  national  tradition  and 
behef.  The  men  whose  deeds  and  passions  he  narrated 
were  the  patterns  and  examples  on  the  one  hand,  on  the 
other  the  warnings  of  his  race;  the  gods  who  determined 
the  fortunes  they  sang,  were  working  still  among  men; 
the  moral  laws  that  ruled  the  past  ruled  the  present  too; 
and  the  history  of  the  Hellenic  race  moved,  under  a 
visible  providence,  from  its  divine  origin  onward  to  an 
end  that  would  be  prosperous  or  the  reverse  according 
as  later  generations  should  continue  to  observe  the 
worship  and  traditions  of  their  fathers  descended  from 
heroes  and  gods. 

And  it  is  the  fact  that  in  this  sense  it  was  representative 
of  the  national  consciousness,  that  distinguishes  the 
Greek  tragedy  from  the  classical  drama  of  the  French. 
For  the  latter,  though  it  imitated  the  ancients  in 
outward  form,  was  inspired  with  a  totally  different  spirit. 
The  kings  and  heroes  whose  fortunes  it  narrated  were  not 
the  ancestors  of  the  French  race ;  they  had  no  root  in  its 
affections,  no  connection  with  its  religious  beliefs,  no 
relation  to  its  ethical  conceptions.  The  whole  ideal  set 
forth  was  not  that  which  really  mspired  the  nation,  but 
at  best  that  which  was  supposed  to  inspire  the  court;  and 
the  whole  drama,  like  a  tree  transplanted  to  an  alien  soil, 
withers  and  dies  for  lack  of  the  nourishment  which  the 
tragedy  of  the  Greeks  unconsciously  imbibed  from  its 
encompassing  air  of  national  tradition. 

Such  then  was  the  general  character  of  the  Greek  tra- 
gedy— an  interpretation  of  the  national  ideal.     Let  us  now 


212  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

proceed  to  follow  out  some  of  the  consequences  involved 
in  this  conception. 

In  the  first  place,  the  theme  represented  is  the  life  and 
fate  of  ancient  heroes — of  personages,  that  is  to  say,  greater 
than  ordinary  men,  both  for  good  and  for  evil,  in  their 
qualities  and  in  their  achievements,  pregnant  with  fateful 
issues,  makers  or  marrers  of  the  fortunes  of  the  world. 
Tragic  and  terrible  their  destiny  may  be,  but  never  con- 
temptible or  squalid.  Behind  all  suffering,  behind  sin  and 
crime,  must  lie  a  redeeming  magnanimity.  A  complete 
villain,  says  Aristotle,  is  not  a  tragic  character,  for  he 
has  no  hold  upon  the  sympathies;  if  he  prosper,  it  is  an 
outrage  on  common  human  feeling;  if  he  fall  into  disaster, 
it  is  merely  what  he  deserves.  Neither  is  it  admissible  to 
represent  the  misfortunes  of  a  thoroughly  good  man,  for 
that  is  merely  painful  and  distressing ;  and  least  of  all  is  it 
tolerable  gratuitously  to  introduce  mere  baseness,  or  madness, 
or  other  aberrations  from  human  nature.  The  true  tragic 
hero  is  a  man  of  high  place  and  birth  who  having  a  nature  not 
ignoble  has  fallen  into  sin  and  pays  in  suffering  the  penalty 
of  his  act.  Nothing  could  throw  more  light  on  the 
distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  Greek  drama  than  these 
few  remarks  of  Aristotle,  and  nothing  could  better  indicate 
how  close,  in  the  Greek  mind,  was  the  connection  between 
aesthetic  and  ethical  judgments.  The  canon  of  Aristotle 
would  exclude  as  proper  themes  for  tragedy  the  character 
and  fate,  say,  of  Richard  III. — the  absolutely  bad  man 
suffering  his  appropriate  desert ;  or  of  Kent  and  Cordelia — 
the  absolutely  good,  brought  into  unmerited  affliction ; 
and  that  not  merely  because  such  themes  offend  the 
moral  sense,  but  because  by  so  offending  they  destroy 
the  proper  pleasure  of  the  tragic  art.     The  whole  aesthetic 


TRAGEDY  2  1 3 

effect  is  limited  by  ethical  presuppositions;  and  to  outrage 
these  is  to  defeat  the  very  purpose  of  tragedy. 

Specially  interesting  in  this  connection  are  the  strictures 
passed  on  Euripides  in  the  passage  of  the  "Frogs"  of 
Aristophanes  to  which  allusion  has  already  been  made. 
Euripides  is  there  accused  of  lowering  the  tragic  art  by 
introducing — 'What?  Women  in  love!  The  central  theme 
of  modern  tragedy!  It  is  the  boast  of  ^schylus  that 
there  is  not  one  of  his  plays  which  touches  on  this 
subject: — 

"I  never  allow'd  of  your  lewd  Sthenoboeas 
Or  filthy  detestable  Phaedras — not   I! 
Indeed  I  should  doubt  if  my  drama  throughout 
Exhibit  an  instance  of  woman  in  love!"  * 

And  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  with  a  Greek 
audience  this  would  count  to  him  as  a  merit,  and  that 
the  shifting  of  the  centre  of  interest  by  Euripides  from 
the  sterner  passions  of  heroes  and  of  kings  to  this  tenderer 
phase  of  human  feeling  would  be  felt  even  by  those  whom 
it  charmed  to  be  a  declension  from  the  height  of  the 
older  tragedy. 

And  to  this  limitation  of  subject  corresponds  a  limitation 
of  treatment.  The  Greek  tragedy  is  composed  from  a 
definite  point  of  view,  with  the  aim  not  merely  to  represent 
but  also  to  interpret  the  theme.  Underlying  the  whole 
construction  of  the  plot,  the  dialogue,  the  reflections,  the 
lyric  interludes,  is  the  intention  to  illustrate  some  general 
moral  law,  some  common  and  typical  problem,  some  fun- 
damental   truth.     Of    the    elder    dramatists    at    any    rate, 

*  Aristoph.  Frogs,    1043. — Translated  by  Frere. 

15 


214  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

/Eschylus  and  Sophocles,  one  may  even  say  that  it  was 
their  purpose — however  imperfectly  achieved — to  "justify 
the  ways  of  God  to  man."  To  represent  suffering  as  the 
punishment  of  sin  is  the  constant  bent  of  ^schylus;  to 
justify  the  law  of  God  against  the  presumption  of  man  is 
the  central  idea  of  Sophocles.  In  either  case  the  whole 
tone  is  essentially  religious.  To  choose  such  a  theme  as 
Lear,  to  treat  it  as  Shakespeare  has  treated  it,  to  leave 
it,  as  it  were,  bleeding  from  a  thousand  wounds,  in  mute 
and  helpless  entreaty  for  the  healing  that  is  never  to 
be  vouchsafed — this  would  have  been  repulsive,  if  not 
impossible,  to  a  Greek  tragedian.  Without  ever  descending 
from  concrete  art  to  the  abstractions  of  mere  moralising, 
without  ever  attempting  to  substitute  a  verbal  formula  for 
the  full  and  complex  perception  that  grows  out  of  a  re- 
presentation of  life,  the  ancient  dramatists  were  nevertheless, 
in  the  whole  apprehension  of  their  theme,  determined  by 
a  more  or  less  conscious  speculative  bias;  the  world  to 
them  was  not  merely  a  splendid  chaos,  it  was  a  divine 
plan;  and  even  in  its  darkest  hollows,  its  passes  most 
perilous  and  bleak,  they  have  their  hand,  though  doubtful 
perhaps  and  faltering,  upon  the  clue  that  is  to  lead  them 
up  to  the  open  sky. 

It  is  consonant  with  this  account  of  the  nature  of  Greek 
tragedy  that  it  should  have  laid  more  stress  upon  action 
than  upon  character.  The  interest  Wcis  centred  on  the 
universal  bearing  of  certain  acts  and  situations,  on  the 
light  which  the  experience  represented  threw  on  the  whole 
tendency  and  course  of  human  life,  not  on  the  sentiments 
and  motives  of  the  particular  personages  introduced.  The 
characters  are  broad  and  simple,  not  developing  for  the 
most  part,  but  fixed,  and  fitted  therefore  to  be  the  mediums 


. 


TRAGEDY  2  1 5 

of  direct  action,  of  simple  issues,  and  typical  situations. 
In  the  Greek  tragedy  the  general  point  of  view  predom- 
inates over  the  idiosyncrasies  of  particular  persons.  It  is 
human  nature  that  is  represented  in  the  broad,  not  this 
or  that  highly  specialised  variation;  and  what  we  have 
indicated  as  the  general  aim,  the  interpretation  of  life,  is 
never  obscured  by  the  predominance  of  exceptional  and 
so  to  speak,  accidental  characteristics.  Man  is  the  subject 
of  the  Greek  drama;  the  subject  of  the  modem  novel  is 
Tom  and  Dick. 

Finally,  to  the  realisation  of  this  general  aim,  the  whole 
form  of  the  Greek  drama  was  admirably  adapted.  It 
consisted  very  largely  of  conversations  between  two  persons, 
representing  two  opposed  points  of  view,  and  giving 
occasion  for  an  almost  scientific  discussion  of  every  problem 
of  action  raised  in  the  play;  and  between  these  conver- 
sations were  inserted  lyric  odes  in  which  the  chorus  com- 
mented on  the  situation,  bestowed  advice  or  warning, 
praise  or  blame,  and  finally  summed  up  the  moral  of  the 
whole.  Through  the  chorus,  in  fact,  the  poet  could  speak 
in  his  own  person,  and  impose  upon  the  whole  tragedy 
any  tone  which  he  desired.  Periodically  he  could  drop 
the  dramatist  and  assume  the  preacher;  and  thus  ensure 
that  his  play  should  be,  what  we  have  seen  was  its 
recognised  ideal,  not  merely  a  representation  but  an  inter- 
pretation of  life. 

But  this  without  ceasing  to  be  a  work  of  art.  In  at- 
tempting to  analyse  in  abstract  terms  the  general  character 
of  the  Greek  tragedy  we  have  necessarily  thrown  into  the 
shade  what  after  all  was  its  primary  and  most  essential 
aspect;  an  aspect,  however,  of  which  a  full  appreciation 
could  only  be  attained  not  by  a  mere  perusal  of  the  text, 


2l6  THE  GREEK    VIEW   OF   LIFE 

but  by  what  is  unfortunately  for  ever  beyond  our  power, 
the  witnessing  of  an  actual  representation  as  it  was  given 
on  the  Greek  stage.  For  from  a  purely  aesthetic  point 
of  view  the  Greek  drama  must  be  reckoned  among  the 
most  perfect  of  art  forms. 

Taking  place  in  the  open  air,  on  the  sunny  slope  of  a 
hill,  valley  and  plain  or  islanded  sea  stretching  away 
below  to  meet  the  blazing  blue  of  a  cloudless  sky,  the 
moving  pageant,  thus  from  the  first  set  in  tune  with  nature, 
brought  to  a  focus  of  splendour  the  rays  of  every  separate 
art.  More  akin  to  an  opera  than  to  a  play  it  had,  as  its 
basis,  music.  For  the  drama  had  developed  out  of  the 
lyric  ode,  and  retained  throughout  what  was  at  first  its 
only  element,  the  dance  and  song  of  a  mimetic  chorus. 
By  this  centre  of  rhythmic  motion  and  pregnant  melody 
the  burden  of  the  tale  was  caught  up  and  echoed  and 
echoed  again,  as  the  living  globe  divided  into  spheres  of 
answering  song,  the  clear  and  precise  significance  of  the  plot, 
never  obscure  to  the  head,  being  thus  brought  home  in  music 
to  the  passion  of  the  heart,  the  idea  embodied  in  lyric 
verse,  the  verse  transfigured  by  song,  and  song  and  verse 
reflected  as  in  a  mirror  to  the  eye  by  the  swing  and  beat 
of  the  limbs  they  stirred  to  consonance  of  motion.  And 
while  such  was  the  character  of  the  odes  that  broke  the 
action  of  the  play,  the  action  itself  was  an  appeal  not  less 
to  the  ear  and  to  the  eye  than  to  the  passion  and  the 
intellect.  The  circumstances  of  the  representation,  the 
huge  auditorium  in  the  open  air,  lent  themselves  less  to 
"  acting "  in  our  sense  of  the  term,  than  to  attitude  and 
declamation.  The  actors  raised  on  high  boots  above  their 
natural  height,  their  faces  hidden  in  masks  and  their  tones 
mechanically  magnified,  must  have  relied  for  their  effects 


TRAGEDY  2  1 7 

not  upon  facial  play,  or  rapid  and  subtle  variations  of  voice 
and  gesture,  but  upon  a  certain  statuesque  beauty  of  pose, 
and  a  chanting  intonation  of  that  majestic  iambic  verse 
whose  measure  would  have  been  obscured  by  a  rapid  and 
conversational  delivery.  The  representation  would  thus 
become  moving  sculpture  to  the  eye,  and  to  the  ear,  as 
it  were,  a  sleep  of  music  between  the  intenser  interludes 
of  the  chorus;  and  the  spectator  without  being  drawn 
away  by  an  imitative  realism  from  the  calm  of  impassioned 
contemplation  into  the  fever  and  fret  of  a  veritable  actor 
on  the  scene,  received  an  impression  based  throughout 
on  that  clear  intellectual  foundation,  that  almost  prosaic 
lucidity  of  sentiment  and  plot,  which  is  preserved  to  us 
in  the  written  text,  but  raised  by  the  accompanying 
appeal  to  the  sense,  made  as  it  must  have  been  made 
by  such  artists  as  the  Greeks,  by  the  grouping  of  forms 
and  colours,  the  recitative,  the  dance  and  the  song,  to 
such  a  greatness  and  height  of  aesthetic  significance  as 
can  hardly  have  been  reaUzed  by  any  other  form  of  art 
production. 

The  nearest  modern  analogy  to  what  the  ancient  drama 
must  have  been  is  to  be  found  probably  in  the  operas 
of  Wagner,  who  indeed  was  strongly  influenced  by  the 
tragedy  of  the  Greeks.  It  was  his  ideal  like  theirs,  to 
combine  the  various  branches  of  art,  employing  not  only 
music  but  poetry,  sculpture,  painting  and  the  dance,  for 
the  representation  of  his  dramatic  theme;  and  his  concep- 
tion also  to  make  art  the  interpreter  of  life,  reflecting  in 
a  national  drama  the  national  consciousness,  the  highest 
action  and  the  deepest  passion  and  thought  of  the  German 
race.  To  consider  how  far  in  this  attempt  he  falls  short 
of  or   goes   beyond   the   achievement  of  the  Greeks,  and 


2l8  tHE   GREEK    VIEW  OF  I.IFfi 

to  examine  the  wide  dissimilarities  that  underlie  the 
general  identity  of  aim,  would  be  to  wander  too  far  afield 
from  our  present  theme.  But  the  comparison  may  be 
recommended  to  those  who  are  anxious  to  form  a  con- 
crete idea  of  what  the  effect  of  a  Greek  tragedy  may 
have  been,  and  to  clothe  in  imagination  the  dead  bones 
of  the  literary  text  with  the  flesh  and  blood  of  a  repre- 
sentation to  the  sense. 

Meantime,  to  assist  the  reader  to  realise  with  some- 
what greater  precision  the  bearing  of  the  foregoing  remarks, 
it  may  be  worth  while  to  give  an  outline  sketch  of  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Greek  tragedies,  the  "Aga- 
memnon" of  ^Ischylus. 

The  hero  of  the  drama  belongs  to  that  heroic  house 
whose  tragic  history  was  among  the  most  terrible  and  the 
most  familiar  to  a  Greek  audience.  Tantalus,  the  founder 
of  the  family,  for  some  offence  against  the  gods,  was  suf- 
fering in  Hades  the  punishment  which  is  christened  by 
his  name.  His  son  Pelops  was  stained  with  the  blood  of 
Myrtilus.  Of  the  two  sons  of  the  next  generation,  Thyestes 
seduced  the  wife  of  his  brother  Atreus ;  and  Atreus  in 
return  killed  the  sons  of  Thyestes,  and  made  the  father 
unwittingly  eat  the  flesh  of  the  murdered  boys.  Aga- 
memnon, son  of  Atreus,  to  propitiate  Artemis,  sacrificed 
his  daughter  Iphigenia,  and  in  revenge  was  murdered  by 
Clytemnestra  his  wife.  And  Clytemnestra  was  killed  by 
Orestes,  her  son,  in  atonement  for  the  death  of  Agamem- 
non. For  generations  the  race  had  been  dogged  by  crime 
and  punishment;  and  in  choosing  for  his  theme  the 
murder  of  Agamemnon  the  dramatist  could  assume  in  his 
audience  so  close  a  familiarity  with  the  past  history  of 
the  House  that  he  could  call  into  existence  by  an  allusive 


TRAGEDY  2  1 9 

word  that  sombre  background  of  woe  to  enhance  the 
terrors  of  his  actual  presentation.  The  figures  he  brought 
into  vivid  relief  joined  hands  with  menacing  forms  that 
faded  away  into  the  night  of  the  future  and  the  past; 
while  above  them  hung,  intoning  doom,  the  phantom  host 
of  Furies. 

Yet  at  the  outset  of  the  drama  all  promises  well.  The 
watchman  on  the  roof  of  the  palace,  in  the  tenth  year  of 
his  watch,  catches  sight  at  last  of  the  signal  fire  that  an- 
nounces the  capture  of  Troy  and  the  speedy  return  of 
Agamemnon.  With  joy  he  proclaims  to  the  House  the 
long-delayed  and  welcome  news;  yet  even  in  the  moment 
of  exultation  lets  slip  a  doubtful  phrase  hinting  at  some- 
thing behind,  which  he  dares  not  name,  something  which 
may  turn  to  despair  the  triumph  of  victory.  Hereupon 
enter  the  chorus  of  Argive  elders,  chanting  as  they  move 
to  the  measure  of  a  stately  march.  They  sing  how  ten 
years  before  Agamemnon  and  Menelaus  had  led  forth  the 
host  of  Greece,  at  the  bidding  of  the  Zeus  who  protects 
hospitality,  to  recover  for  Menelaus  Helen  his  wife,  treacher- 
ously stolen  by  Paris.  Then,  as  they  take  their  places 
and  begin  their  rhythmic  dance,  in  a  strain  of  impassioned 
verse  that  is  at  once  a  narrative  and  a  lyric  hymn,  they 
tell,  or  rather,  present  in  a  series  of  vivid  images,  flashing 
as  by  illumination  of  lightning  out  of  a  night  of  veiled  and 
sombre  boding,  the  tale  of  the  deed  that  darkened  the 
starting  of  the  host — the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  to  the 
goddess  whose  wrath  was  delaying  the  fleet  at  Aulis.  In 
verse,  in  music,  in  pantomime,  the  scene  lives  again — the 
struggle  in  the  father's  heart,  the  insistence  of  his  brother 
chiefs,  the  piteous  glance  of  the  girl,  and  at  last  the 
unutterable  end ;  while  above  and  through  it  all  rings  like 


2  20  THE   GREEK   VIEW  OF   LIFE 

a    knell    of  fate    the    refrain    that    is   the   motive   of  the 
whole  drama: 

"Sing   woe,  sing  woe,  but  may  the  Good  prevail." 

At  tlie  conclusion  of  the  ode  enters  Clytemnestra.  She 
makes  a  formal  announcement  to  the  chorus  of  the  fall  of  Troy ; 
describes  the  course  of  the  signal-fire  from  beacon  to  beacon 
as  it  sped,  and  pictures  in  imagination  the  scenes  even  then 
taking  place  in  the  doomed  city.  On  her  withdrawal  the 
chorus  break  once  more  into  song  and  dance.  To  the  music 
of  a  solemn  hymn  they  point  the  moral  of  the  fall  of  Troy, 
the  certain  doom  of  violence  and  fraud  descended  upon 
Paris  and  his  House.  Once  more  the  vivid  pictures 
flash  from  the  night  of  woe — Helen  in  her  fatal  beauty 
stepping  lightly  to  her  doom,  the  widower's  nights  of 
mourning  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  love,  the  horrors  of 
the  war  that  followed,  the  slain  abroad  and  the  mourners 
at  home,  the  change  of  living  flesh  and  blood  for  the  dust 
and  ashes  of  the  tomb.  At  last  with  a  return  to  their 
original  theme,  the  doom  of  insolence,  the  chorus  close 
their  ode  and  announce  the  arrival  of  a  messenger  from 
Troy.  Talthybius,  the  herald,  enters  as  spokesman  of  the 
army  and  king,  describing  the  hardships  they  have  suffered 
and  the  joy  of  the  triumphant  issue.  To  him  Clytem- 
nestra  announces,  in  words  of  which  the  irony  is  patent 
to  the  audience,  her  sufferings  in  the  absence  of  her 
husband  and  her  delight  at  the  prospect  of  his  return. 
He  will  find  her,  she  says,  as  he  left  her,  a  faithful  watcher 
of  the  home,  her  loyalty  sure,  her  honour  undefiled. 
Then  follows  another  choral  ode,  similar  in  theme  to  the 
last,  dwelling  on  the  woe  brought  by  the  act  of  Paris 
upon   Troy,   the   change  of  the  bridal  song  to  the  trump 


TRAGEDY  2  2  I 

of  war  and  the  dirge  of  death;  contrasting,  in  a  profusion 
of  splendid  tropes,  the  beauty  of  Helen  with  the  curse  to 
which  it  is  bound;  and  insisting  once  more  on  the  doom 
that  attends  insolence  and  pride.  At  the  conclusion  of 
this  song  the  measure  changes  to  a  march,  and  the  chorus 
turn  to  welcome  the  triumphant  king.  Agamemnon  enters, 
and  behind  him  the  veiled  and  silent  figure  of  a  woman. 
After  greeting  the  gods  of  his  House,  the  King,  in  brief  and 
stilted  phrase,  acknowledges  the  loyalty  of  the  chorus,  but 
hints  at  much  that  is  amiss  which  it  must  be  his  first  charge 
to  set  right.  Hereupon  enters  Clytemnestra,  and  in  a  speech 
of  rhetorical  exaggeration  tells  of  her  anxious  waiting  for 
her  lord  and  her  inexpressible  joy  at  his  return.  In  con- 
clusion she  directs  that  purple  cloth  be  spread  upon  his 
path  that  he  may  enter  the  house  as  befits  a  conqueror. 
After  a  show  of  resistance,  Agamemnon  yields  the  point, 
and  the  contrast  at  which  the  dramatist  aims  is  achieved. 
With  the  pomp  of  an  eastern  monarch,  always  repellent 
to  the  Greek  mind,  the  King  steps  across  the  threshold, 
steps,  as  the  audience  knows,  to  his  death.  The  higher 
the  reach  of  his  power  and  pride  the  more  terrible  and 
swift  is  the  nemesis;  and  Clytemnestra  follows  in  triumph 
with  the  enigmatic  cry  upon  her  lips :  "  Zeus  who  art  god 
of  fulfilment,  fulfil  my  prayers."  As  she  withdraws  the  chorus 
begin  a  song  of  boding  fear,  the  more  terrible  that  it  is  still 
indefinite.  Something  is  going  to  happen — the  presentiment 
is  sure.  But  what,  but  what?  They  search  the  night  in 
vain.  Meantime,  motionless  and  silent  waits  the  figure  of 
the  veiled  woman.  It  is  Cassandra,  the  prophetess,  daugh- 
ter of  Priam  of  Troy,  whom  Agamemnon  has  carried  home 
as  his  prize.  Clytemnestra  returns  to  urge  her  to  enter 
the  house;  she  makes  no  sign  and  utters  no  word.     The 


2  22  THE   GREEK    VIEW   OF   LIFE 

queen  changes  her  tone  from  courtesy  to  anger  and  rebuke; 
the  figure  neither  stirs  nor  speaks;  and  Clytemnestra  at 
last  with  an  angry  threat  leaves  her  and  returns  to  tlie  palace. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  a  cry  breaks  from  the  stranger's 
lips,  a  passionate  cry  to  Apollo  who  gave  her  her  fatal  gift. 
All  the  sombre  history  of  the  House  to  which  she  has  been 
brought,  the  woe  that  has  been  and  the  woe  that  is  to  come, 
passes  in  pictures  across  her  inner  sense.  In  a  series  of 
broken  ejaculations,  not  sentences  but  lyric  cries,  she  evokes 
the  scenes  of  the  past  and  of  the  future.  Blood  drips 
from  the  palace;  in  its  chambers  the  Furies  crouch;  the 
murdered  sons  of  Thyestes  wail  in  its  haunted  courts ;  and  ever 
among  the  visions  of  the  past  that  one  of  the  future  floats 
and  fades,  clearly  discerned,  impossible  to  avert,  the 
murder  of  a  husband  by  a  wife;  and  in  the  rear  of  that, 
most  pitiful  of  all,  the  violent  death  of  the  seer  who  sees  in 
vain  and  may  not  help.  Between  Cassandra  and  the  Chorus 
it  is  a  duet  of  anguish  and  fear;  in  the  broken  lyric  phrases 
a  phantom  music  wails;  till  at  last,  at  what  seems  the 
breaking-point,  the  tension  is  relaxed,  and  dropping  into 
the  calmer  iambic  recitative,  Cassandra  tells  her  message 
in  plainer  speech  and  clearly  proclaims  the  murder  of 
the  King.  Then,  with  a  last  appeal  to  the  avenger  that 
is  to  come,  she  enters  the  palace  alone  to  meet  her 
death. — The  stage  is  empty.  Suddenly  a  cry  is  heard 
from  within;  again,  and  then  again;  while  the  chorus 
hesitate  the  deed  is  done;  the  doors  are  thrown  open, 
and  Clytemnestra  is  seen  standing  over  the  corpses  of 
her  victims.  All  disguise  is  now  thrown  ofi ;  the  murderess 
avows  and  triumphs  in  her  deed;  she  justifies  it  as  ven- 
geance for  the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia,  and  sees  in  herself 
not  a    free    human   agent    but  the  incarnate  curse  of  the 


■iMilliillillllHaiJHMk.^ 


COMEDY  i2^ 

House  of  Tantalus.  And  now  for  the  first  time  appears 
the  adulterer  ^gisthus,  who  has  planned  the  whole  behind 
the  scenes.  He  too  is  an  avenger,  for  he  is  the  son  of 
that  Thyestes  who  was  made  to  feed  on  his  own  chil- 
dren's fiesh.  The  murder  of  Agamemnon  is  but  one  more 
link  in  the  long  chain  of  hereditary  guilt;  and  with  that 
exposition  of  the  pitiless  law  of  punishment  and  crime 
this  chapter  of  the  great  drama  comes  to  a  close.  But 
the  "Agamemnon"  is  only  the  first  of  a  series  of  three 
plays  closely  connected  and  meant  to  be  performed  in 
succession;  and  the  problem  raised  in  the  first  of  them, 
the  crime  that  cries  for  punishment  and  the  punishment 
that  is  itself  a  new  crime,  is  solved  in  the  last  by  a 
reconciliation  of  the  powers  of  heaven  and  hell,  and  the 
pardon  of  the  last  offender  in  the  person  of  Orestes.  To 
sketch,  however,  the  plan  of  the  other  dramas  of  the 
trilogy  would  be  to  trespass  too  far  upon  our  space  and 
time.  It  is  enough  to  have  illustrated,  by  the  example  of 
the  "  Agamemnon,"  the  general  character  of  a  Greek  tragedy ; 
and  those  who  care  to  pursue  the  subject  further  must  be 
referred  to  the  text  of  the  plays  themselves. 

§  y.  Comedy, 

Even  more  remarkable  than  the  tragedy  of  the  Greeks, 
in  its  rendering  of  a  didactic  intention  under  the  forms 
of  a  free  and  spontaneous  art,  is  the  older  comedy  known 
to  us  through  the  works  of  Aristophanes.  As  the  former 
dealt  with  the  general  conceptions,  religious  and  ethical, 
that  underlay  the  Greek  view  of  life,  using  as  its  medium 
of  exposition  the  ancient  national  myths,  so  the  latter 
dealt  with  the  particular  phases  of  contemporary  life, 
employing  the  machinery  of  a  free  burlesque.     The  achieve- 


224  THE  GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

ment  of  Aristophanes,  in  fact,  is  more  astonishing,  in 
a  sense,  than  that  of  ^schylus.  Starting  with  what  is 
always,  prima  facie,  the  prose  of  everyday  life,  its  acrid 
controversies,  its  vulgar  and  tedious  types,  and  even  its  par- 
ticular individuals— for  Aristophanes  does  not  hesitate  to 
introduce  his  contemporaries  in  person  on  the  stage — he 
fits  to  this  gross  and  heavy  stufif  the  wings  of  imagination, 
scatters  from  it  the  clinging  mists  of  banality  and  spite  and 
speeds  it  forth  through  the  lucid  heaven  of  art  amid  peals  of 
musical  laughter  and  snatches  of  lyric  song.  For  Aristo- 
phanes was  a  poet  as  well  as  a  comedian,  and  his  genius 
is  displayed  not  only  in  the  construction  of  his  fantastic 
plots,  not  only  in  the  inexhaustible  profusion  of  his  humane 
and  genial  wit,  but  in  bursts  of  pure  poetry  as  melodious 
and  inspired  as  ever  sprang  from  the  lips  of  the  lyrists  of 
Greece  or  of  the  world.  The  basis  of  the  comic  as  of  the 
tragic  art  of  the  Greeks  was  song  and  dance;  and  the 
chorus,  the  original  element  of  the  play,  still  retains  in  the 
works  of  Aristophanes  a  place  important  enough  to  make 
it  clear  that  in  comedy,  too,  a  prominent  aspect  of  the 
art  must  have  been  the  aesthetic  appeal  to  the  ear  and 
the  eye.  In  general  structure,  in  fact,  comedy  and  tragedy 
were  alike;  aesthetically  the  motives  were  similar,  only 
they  were  set  in  a  different  key. 

But  while  primarily  Aiistophanes,  Hke  the  tragedians, 
was  a  great  artist,  he  was  also,  like  them,  a  great  inter- 
preter of  life.  His  dramas  are  satires  as  well  as  poems, 
and  he  was  and  expressed  himself  supremely  conscious  of 
ha\ing  a  "mission"  to  fulfil.  "He  has  scorned  from 
the  first,"  he  makes  the  chorus  sing  of  himself  in  the 
"  Peace  " : 


SUMMARY  225 

*•  He  has  scorned  from  the  first  to  descend  and  to  dip 
Peddling  and  meddling  in  private  affairs: 
To  detect  and  collect  every  petty  defect 
Of  husband  and  wife  and  domestical  life ; 
But  intrepid  and  bold,  like  Alcides  of  old, 
When  the  rest  stood  aloof,  put  himself  to  the  proof 
In  his    country's  behoof."  * 

His  aim,  in  fact,  was  deliberately  to  instruct  his  coun- 
tiymen  in  political  and  social  issues;  to  attack  the 
abuses  of  the  Assembly,  of  the  Law-courts  and  the  home; 
to  punish  demagogues,  charlatans,  professional  politicians; 
to  laugh  back  into  their  senses  "revolting"  sons  and 
wives;  to  defend  the  orthodox  faith  against  philosophers 
and  men  of  science.  These  are  the  themes  that  he 
embodies  in  his  plots,  and  these  the  morals  that  he 
enforces  when  he  speaks  through  the  chorus  in  his  own 
person.  And  the  result  is  an  art-product  more  strange  to 
the  modern  mind  in  its  union  of  poetry  with  prose,  of 
aesthetic  with  didactic  significance,  than  even  that  marvel 
lous  creation,  the  Greek  tragedy.  Of  the  character  of  this 
comedy  the  reader  may  form  an  idea  through  the  admi- 
rable and  easily  accessible  translations  of  Frere  ;  *  and  we 
are  therefore  dispensed  from  the  obligation  to  attempt,  as 
in  the  case  of  tragedy,  an  account  of  some  particular 
specimen  of  the  art. 

§  8.  Summary, 

And   here   must   conclude   our  survey   of  the  character 
of  Greek  art.     The  main  point  which  we  have  endeavoured 

'Aristoph.  Peace,  751   seq. — Translated  by  P'rere. 

*In  Morley's  Universal  Library. 


226  THE  GREEK   VIEW   OF  LIFE 

to  make  clear  has  been  so  often  insisted  upon,  that  it  is 
hardly  necessary  to  dwell  upon  it  further.  The  key  to 
the  art  of  the  Greeks,  as  well  as  to  their  ethics,  is  the 
identification  of  the  beautiful  and  the  good;  and  it  there- 
fore is  as  natural  in  treating  of  their  art  to  insist  on  its 
ethical  value  as  it  was  to  insist  on  the  aesthetic  significance 
of  their  moral  ideal.  But,  in  fact,  any  insistance  on  either 
side  of  the  judgment  is  misleading.  The  two  points  of 
view  had  never  been  dissociated;  and  art  and  conduct 
alike  proceeded  from  the  same  imperative  impulse,  to 
create  a  harmony  or  order  which  was  conceived  indifferently 
as  beautiful  or  good.  Through  and  through,  the  Greek 
ideal  is  Unity.  To  make  the  individual  at  one  with  the 
State,  the  real  with  the  ideal,  the  inner  with  the  outer, 
art  with  morals,  finally  to  bring  all  phases  of  life  imder 
the  empire  of  a  single  idea,  which,  with  Goethe,  we  may 
call,  as  we  will,  the  good,  the  beautiful,  or  the  whole — 
this  was  the  aim,  and,  to  a  great  extent,  the  achievement 
of  their  genius.  And  of  all  the  points  of  view  from  which 
we  may  envisage  their  brilliant  activity  none  perhaps  is 
more  central  and  more  characteristic  than  this  of  art, 
whose  essence  is  the  comprehension  of  the  many  in  the 
one,   and  the  perfect  reflection  of  the  inner  in  the  outer. 


CHAPTER  V 

CONCLUSION 

Now  that  we  have  examined  in  some  detail  the  most 
important  phases  of  the  Greek  view  of  life,  it  may  be  cis 
well  to  endeavour  briefly  to  recapitulate  and  bring  to  a 
point  the  various  considerations  that  have  been  advanced. 

But,  first,  one  preliminary  remark  must  be  made. 
Throughout  the  preceding  pages  we  have  made  no  attempt 
to  distinguish  the  Greek  "  view  "  from  the  Greek  "  ideal  "  ; 
we  have  interpreted  their  customs  and  institutions,  politi- 
cal, social,  or  religious,  by  the  conceptions  and  ideals  of 
philosophers  and  poets,  and  have  thus,  it  may  be  objected, 
made  the  mistake  of  identifying  the  blind  work  ot 
popular  instinct  with  the  theories  and  aspirations  of  con- 
scious thought. 

Such  a  procedure,  no  doubt,  would  be  illegitimate  if 
it  were  supposed  to  imply  that  Greek  institutions  were  the 
result  of  a  deliberate  intention  consciously  adopted  and 
approved  by  the  average  man.  Like  other  social  products 
they  grew  and  were  not  made;  and  it  was  only  the  few 
who  realised  fully  all  that  they  implied.     But  on  the  other 

hand  it  is  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  Greek  age 

227 


2  28  THE  GRliEK   VIEW  OF  LIFE 

that  the  ideal  formulated  by  thought  was  the  direct  out- 
come of  the  facts.  That  absolute  separation  of  what  ought 
to  be  from  what  is  which  continues  to  haunt  and  vitiate 
modem  life  had  not  yet  been  made  in  ancient  Greece. 
Plato,  idealist  though  he  be,  is  yet  rooted  in  the  facts 
of  his  age;  his  perfect  republic  he  bases  on  the  institu- 
tions of  Sparta  and  Crete;  his  perfect  man  he  shapes  on 
the  lines  of  the  Greek  citizen.  That  dislocation  of  the 
spirit  which  opposed  the  body  to  the  soul,  heaven  to 
earth,  the  church  to  the  state,  the  man  of  the  world  to 
the  priest,  was  altogether  alien  to  the  consciousness  of  the 
Greeks.  To  them  the  world  of  fact  was  also  the  world 
of  the  ideal;  the  conceptions  which  inspired  their  highest 
aims  were  already  embodied  in  their  institutions  and 
reflected  in  their  life;  and  the  realisation  of  what  ought 
to  be  involved  not  the  destruction  of  what  was,  but  merely 
its  perfecting  on  its  own  lines. 

While  then,  on  the  one  hand,  it  would  be  ridiculous 
so  to  idealise  the  civilisation  of  the  Greeks  as  to  imply 
that  they  had  eliminated  discord  and  confusion,  yet,  on 
the  other,  it  is  legitimate  to  say  that  they  had  built  on 
the  plan  of  the  ideal,  and  that  their  life  both  in  public 
and  private  was,  by  the  very  law  of  its  existence,  an 
eflJbrt  to  realise  explicitly  that  type  of  Good  which  was 
already  implicitly  embodied  in  its  structure. 

The  ideal,  in  a  word,  in  ancient  Greece,  was  organically 
related  to  the  real ;  and  that  is  why  it  is  possible  to  identify 
the  Greek  view  with  the  Greek  ideal. 

Bearing  this  in  mind  we  may  now  proceed  to  recapitul- 
ate our  conclusions  as  to  what  that  view  was.  And,  first, 
let  us  take  the  side  of  speculation.  Here  we  are  concerned 
not   with   the  formal   systems   of  Greek  thought,  but  with 


CONCLUSION  *^9 


that  half-unconscious  working  of  imagination  as  much  ^ 
this  religion,  <!  Kv  virtue  of  which  a  reconciliation 

;rte.l^     Th, .  lJ.\.  fo,  .h.  M«m.l  life  i"*"'* 

.ltd   the  other.     But  since  the  perfection  of  the 
ro;t-~e-n°fe^.^^^^^^^^^ 

ll^sl^enVwealth  and  ^  .ood  name  among  men,  we. 
u,cludcd  in  their  conception  of  the  desirable  hfe.  Har 
Tony  in  a  word,  was  the  end  they  pursued  harmony  of 
The  lo^  with  the  body  and  of  the  body  ..th  'ts  environ- 
^!n  an"  it  is  this  that  distinguishes  their  ethica  ideal 
"om  that  which  in  later  times  has  insisted  on  the  funda- 
mental  antagonism  of  the  inner  to  the  outer  hfe.  and  made 


230  THE   GREEK   VIEW   OF   LIFE 

the  perfection  of  the  spirit  depend  on  the  mortification  of 
the  flesh. 

The  same  ideal  of  harmony  dominates  the  Greek  view 
of  the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  state.  This  relation, 
it  is  true,  is  often  described  as  one  in  which  the  parts 
were  subordinated  to  the  whole;  but  more  accurately  it 
may  be  said  that  they  were  conceived  as  finding  in  the 
whole  their  realisation.  The  perfect  individual  was  the 
individual  in  the  state ;  the  faculties  essential  to  his  excel- 
lence had  there  only  their  opportunity  of  development; 
the  qualities  defined  as  virtues  had  there  only  their  signifi- 
cance; and  it  was  only  in  so  far  as  he  was  a  citizen  that 
a  man  was  properly  a  man  at  all.  Thus  that  opposition 
between  the  individual  and  the  state  which  perplexes 
our  o'^Ti  society  had  hardly  begun  to  define  itself  in 
Greece.  If  on  the  one  hand  the  state  made  larger  claims 
on  the  liberty  of  the  individual,  on  the  other,  the  liberty 
of  the  individual  consisted  in  a  response  to  the  claims. 
So  that  in  this  department  also  harmony  was  maintained 
by  the  Greeks  between  elements  which  have  developed 
in  modern  times  their  latent  antagonism. 

Thus,  both  in  speculation  and  in  practice,  in  his  relation 
to  nature  and  in  his  relation  to  the  state,  both  internally, 
between  the  divergent  elements  of  which  his  own  being 
was  composed,  and  externally  between  himself  and  the 
world  that  was  not  he,  it  was  the  aim,  conscious  or  uncon- 
scious, and,  in  part  at  least,  the  achievement  of  the  Greeks, 
to  create  and  maintain  an  essential  harmony.  The  anti- 
theses of  which  we  in  our  own  time  are  so  painfully  and 
increasingly  aware,  between  Man  as  a  moral  being  and 
Nature  as  an  indifferent  law,  between  the  flesh  and  the 
sDirit  between  the  individual  and  the  state,  do  not  appear 


CONCLUSION  231 

as  factors  in  that  dominant  consciousness  of  the  Greeksj 
under  whose  influence  their  religion,  their  institutions  and 
their  customary  ideals  had  been  formed.  And  so  regarded, 
in  general,  under  what  may  fairly  be  called  its  most 
essential  aspect,  the  Greek  civilisation  is  rightly  described 
as  that  of  harmony. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  and  this  is  the  point  to  which 
we  must  now  turn  our  attention,  this  harmony  which  was 
the  dominant  feature  in  the  consciousness^  of  the  Greeks 
and  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  their  epoch  in  the 
history  of  the  world,  was  nevertheless,  after  all,  but  a 
transitory  and  imperfect  attempt  to  reconcile  elements 
whose  antagonism  was  too  strong  for  the  solution  thus 
proposed.  The  factors  of  disruption  were  present  from 
the  beginning  in  the  Greek  ideal;  and  it  was  as  much 
by  the  development  of  its  own  internal  contradictions  as 
by  the  invasion  of  forces  from  without  that  that  fabric  of 
magical  beauty  was  destined  to  fall.  These  contradictions 
have  already  been  indicated  at  various  points  in  the  text, 
and  it  only  remains  to  bring  them  together  in  a  concluding 
summary. 

On  the  side  of  speculation,  the  religion  of  the  Greeks 
was  open,  as  we  saw,  to  a  double  criticism.  On  the  one 
hand,  the  ethical  conceptions  embodied  in  those  legends 
of  the  gods  which  were  the  product  of  an  earlier  and  more 
barbarous  age,  had  become  to  the  contemporaries  of  Plato 
revolting  or  ridiculous.  On  the  other  hand,  to  metaphysi- 
cal speculation,  not  only  was  the  existence  of  the  gods 
unproved,  but  their  mutually  conflicting  activities,  their 
passions  and  their  caprice,  were  incompatible  with  that 
conception  of  universal  law  which  the  developing  reason 
evolved  as  the  form  of  truth.     The  reconciliation  of  man 


232  THE   GREEK  VIEW  OF  LIFE 

with  nature  which  had  been  effected  by  the  medium  of 
anthropomorphic  gods  was  a  harmony  only  to  the  imagi- 
nation, not  to  the  mind.  Under  the  action  of  the  intellect 
the  unstable  combination  was  dissolved  and  the  elements 
'that  had  been  thus  imperfectly  joined  fell  back  into  their 
original  opposition.  The  religion  of  the  Greeks  was  de- 
stroyed by  the  internal  evolution  of  their  own  consciousness. 

And  in  the  sphere  of  practice  we  are  met  with  a 
similar  dissolution.  The  Greek  conception  of  excellence 
included,  as  we  saw,  not  only  bodily  health  and  strength, 
but  such  a  share  at  least  of  external  goods  as  would  give 
a  man  scope  for  his  own  self-perfection.  And  since  these 
conditions  were  not  attainable  by  all,  the  sacrifice  of  the 
majority  to  the  minority  was  frankly  accepted  and  the 
pursuit  of  the  ideal  confined  to  a  privileged  class. 

Such  a  conception,  however,  was  involved  in  internal 
contradictions.  For  in  the  first  place,  even  for  the  pri- 
vileged few,  an  excellence  which  depended  on  external 
aids  was,  at  the  best,  uncertain  and  problematical.  Mis- 
fortune and  disease  were  possibilities  that  could  not  be 
ignored;  old  age  and  death  were  imperative  certainties; 
and  no  care,  no  art,  no  organisation  of  society,  could 
obviate  the  inherent  incompatibility  of  individual  perfection 
with  the  course  of  nature.  Harmony  between  the  indi- 
dual  and  his  environment  was  perhaps  more  nearly 
achieved  by  and  for  the  aristocracy  of  ancient  Greece 
than  by  any  society  of  any  other  age.  But  such  a  harmony, 
even  at  the  best,  is  fleeting  and  precarious;  and  no  perfec- 
tion of  life  delivers  from  death. 

And,  in  the  second  place,  to  secure  even  this  imperfect 
realisation,  it  was  necessary  to  restrict  the  universal  appli- 
cation   of    the   ideal.     Excellence,   in   Greece,   was   made 


CONCLUSION  233 

the  end  for  some,  not  for  all.  But  this  limitation  was  felt, 
in  the  development  of  consciousness,  to  be  self-contradic- 
tory; and  the  next  great  system  of  ethics  that  succeeded 
to  that  of  Aristotle,  postulated  an  end  of  action  that  should 
be  at  once  independent  of  the  aids  of  fortune  and  open 
alike  to  all  classes  of  mankind.  The  ethics  of  a  privileged 
class  were  thus  expanded  into  the  ethics  of  humanity ;  but 
this  expansion  was  fatal  to  its  essence,  which  had  depended 
on  the  very  limitations  by  which  it  was  destroyed. 

With  the  Greek  civilisation  beauty  perished  from  the 
world.  Never  again  has  it  been  possible  for  man  to 
believe  that  harmony  is  in  fact  the  truth  of  all  existence. 
The  intellect  and  the  moral  sense  have  developed  impera- 
tive claims  which  can  be  satisfied  by  no  experience  known 
to  man.  And  as  a  consequence  of  this  the  goal  of  desire 
which  the  Greeks  could  place  in  the  present,  has  been 
transferred,  for  us,  to  a  future  infinitely  remote,  which 
nevertheless  is  conceived  as  attainable.  Dissatisfaction 
with  the  world  in  which  we  live  and  determination  to 
realise  one  that  shall  be  better,  are  the  prevailing  charac- 
teristics of  the  modem  spirit.  The  development  is  one  into 
whose  meaning  and  end  this  is  not  the  place  to  enter. 
It  is  enough  that  we  feel  it  to  be  inevitable;  that  the 
harmony  of  the  Greeks  contained  in  itself  the  factors  of 
its  own  destruction ;  and  that  in  spite  of  the  fascination 
which  constantly  fixes  our  gaze  on  that  fairest  and  happiest 
halting-place  in  the  secular  march  of  man,  it  was  not 
there,  any  more  than  here,  that  he  was  destined  to  find 
the  repose  of  that  ultimate  reconciliation  which  was  but 
imperfectly  anticipated  by  the  Greeks. 


INDEX 


Achilles,  6,  33,  169. 

i^schylus,  on  the  punishment  of 
guilt,  25;  on  Zeus,  51;  and 
Euripides,  208 ;  his  Agamemnon, 
218. 

Agamemnon,  the,  of  ^"Eschylus,  218. 

Alcibiades,  and  Socrates,   170. 

Andromache,   158. 

Anthesteria,   12. 

Apollo,  Delphian,  11,  29;  in 
Euripides,  46,  7  ; 

Aristophanes,  13,  20,  44;  on  j.hy- 
sical  speculations,  53 ;  on  com- 
munism, 88;  on  Athenian  demo- 
cracy, 108  ;  on  women,  161  ; 
on  ^schylus  and  Euripides,  208, 
213;  Character  of  his  comedies, 
224. 

Aristotle,  his  view  of  the  state, 
69;  on  slaves,  73;  on  forms  of 
government,  80,  87  ;  on  property, 
93;  his  ideal  of  the  state,  i2i; 
on  artisans,  127;  on  happiness, 
128  ;  on  virtue,  135;  on  pleasure, 
144  ;  on  women,  160  ;  on  painting, 
198 ;  on  mtisic,  201 ;  on  the  dance, 
203;  on  tlie  tragic  hero,  212. 

Artisans,  71,  99,   127. 


Aspasia,  166. 
Athens,  103. 
Athletics,   131. 


Bacchic  rites,  30. 


c. 

Citizen,   Greek  conception   of,   67 

City-state,  65. 

Cleomachus,   172. 

Cleon,   107,   108. 

Comedy,  223. 

Communism,    in  Aristophanes,  88 ; 

in  Plato,  91. 
Croesus,   129. 

D. 

Dancing,  203. 

Demosthenes,  on  law,  70,  117;  Oh 
Athenian    demagogues,    115;  on 
sycophants,     116;    on    marriage, 
156,  167. 
i    Dionysus,  30:  Zagreus,  31,  39. 
i    Divination,  19. 


INDEX 


235 


£. 

Education,  in  Spaiika,  97 ;  by  poetry, 

206. 
Erinyes,  25. 
Euripides,  his  criticism  of  the  myths, 

46;    on    slaves,    76;    on  Athens, 

104;     on     women,     161,5;    and 

iE^chylus,  208. 

F. 

Family,  the,   155. 
Festivals,   12. 
Friendship,  168. 

6. 

Goethe,  on  Greek  sepulchral  monu- 
ments, 37. 

H. 

Hector,  158. 
Herodotus,   100,   129. 
Heroes,  9,   16. 
Hetaerae,   166. 
Homer,  5,  22,  41,  i57|8. 


1. 

Ischomachus,  144,  163. 

L. 

Lycurgus,  87,  90,  96,  102. 


M. 

Marriage,  at  Sparta,  97,  154;  in 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  155;  at 
Athens,   156;  Xenophon  on,  156. 

Mimnermus,  33. 

Music,   199  ;  at  Sparta,  203. 

Mysteries,  39. 


N. 

Nature,  impersonation  of  powen 
of,  2;  and  law,  70;  treatment 
of,  in  art,   193. 

Nausicaa,  158. 

o. 

Odysseus,  4,  33,  34,    157,0 
Olympia,   132. 
Oracles,  21. 
Orestes,  27,  46, 

P. 

Painting,  191,7. 

Panathen,T!a,   15. 

Parrhasius,    198. 

Parthenon,  frieze  of,   15,   197. 

Patroclus,  6,  169. 

Penelope,   157. 

Pericles,  funeral  oration,  35,   160. 

Pindar,  39,  45,  129,   132. 

Plato,  on  mendicant  prophets,  23, 
38;  on  inspiration,  29,  189;  on 
the  myths,  48;  his  metaphysics, 
59;  his  ideal  state,  68,  120;  on 
trade,  78,  94;  his  communism, 
91  ;  his  scale  of  Goods,  128;  on 
body  and  soul,  131;  on  virtue, 
134,7;  myth  of  the  two  horses, 
138;  on  pleasure,  143;  on  Socra- 
tes, 147;  description  of  a  gym- 
nasium, 151;  on  women,  155, 
160,  164;  on  love,  173;  on  art, 
189,  191;  on  music,  199,  202; 
on  the  dance,  203;  on  poetry 
as  a  means  of  education,  207. 

Plutarch,  on  Sparta,  99,  loi  ;  on 
friendship,  170,2;  on  music  at 
Sparta,  204. 

Poetry,  206. 

Puritanism,  17,  24,  28,   135. 

s. 

Science,  and  religion,  in  Greece,  5,^ 
Sculpture,   194. 


236  INDEX 


Shakespeare,  210,  214. 
Slaves,  73. 
Socrates,  146,   170. 
Solon,  90,   129,  130. 
Sophocles,  52,  214. 
Sparta,  95,  168,   203. 
Stoicism,  184. 

T. 

Theban  band,  168. 

Theoguls,  169. 

Thucydides,    on    factions,    82 ;    on 

Athens     and     Sparta,     105;    on 

Athens,  iii. 
Tragedy,  209. 


w. 


Wagner,  217. 

Woman,  154;  in  .the  Homeric  age, 
157;  in  historic  Greece,  159. 

X. 

Xenophon,  on  the  mechanical  arts, 
127;  account  of  Ischomachus, 
144;  on  marriage,  156;  his  ideal 
of  a  wife,   163. 

z. 

Zeus,  42,  So;  of  Pheidias,  Ija,  19$. 


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